Harry Potter and the Counter Guardian
by chimmon
Summary: Before his death at the Department of Mysteries, Sirius had sent Harry a book to help him pass his time at 4 Privet Drive. This will result in Harry Potter inadvertently summoning a sarcastic wizard in red robes who calls himself Archer. How will this Heroic Spirit change the world?
1. Chapter 1

EMIYA the Counter Guardian looked down on the dead bodies at his feet. It was another blow to the morals of the fake 'Hero of Justice'. He didn't know much about the people he had just killed, other than they had been involved (however tangentially) with a possible extinction-level event for humanity. As a Beast of Alaya, he was nothing more than a tool of the collective unconsciousness of mankind. All he knew is that there was a threat in the form of Voldemort, and apparently the Counter Force's empowered champion was close to being defeated. If that happened, it would fall on him to preserve the human race in a more...direct manner. Counter Guardians didn't leave much in their wake, as the carnage around him attested to. Their actions were seen as natural disasters, and there were never any survivors to gain-say such claims. This was the first of many such cleansing - unless of course the Counter Force's champion actually wound up winning, but that was looking less and less likely with each passing day. The young Harry Potter still lived, and with him hope that the cleansing would be averted.

EMIYA etherealized, leaving behind the bodies of these so-called "Death Eaters", along with their intended victims, and about 30 civilians that happened to have been judged 'too-close'. Once again, he cursed his existence. He had chosen to become a Heroic Spirit upon his death in exchange for a miracle. In the end he'd saved hundreds from a calamity, and was also given the opportunity to save countless others even after his death. Instead, he'd been given the duty of "to slaughter all humans at a particular location when mankind is at the threshold of complete self destruction" - a Counter Guardian. He still had an ego, a sense of self, but his actions were bound tightly to Alaya's will. In the end, he was a cursed tool that could only save lives by killing others. His childhood dream of "saving everyone" was just that.

In the West Country of the British Isles witnesses were already gathering at his handy work. The mages would assume the carnage had been caused by a fierce battle against You-Know-Who's forces and their latest hapless victims. Ironically, the less well-informed general populous would go on to report the incident as a freak hurricane. This misconception was actually closer to the truth, since EMIYA was little more than a focused natural disaster.

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Harry Potter sat in his room going over the book his Godfather had left him for what felt like the thousandth time. It was his fault that Sirius had been killed. If he hadn't have run off after being manipulated by Voldemort, then the former Marauder would still be alive. Harry didn't know what to think when his return to 4 Privet Drive coincided with the arrival of a post-owl with a small package. The parcel was wrapped in plain brown paper, and had a note saying:

'Harry, I got to thinking, and I'm pretty sure Snivellus will make sure you don't get an Outstanding in Potions. The greasy git isn't capable of grading you fairly, and it's the perfect opportunity for him to get you out of his class (even if he likes having you in there, just to torture you)! So I thought to myself, what would a good class for you to take be? Then I remembered a book I had in my childhood. "The Formal Craft of Runes" It always intrigued me the possibilities that runes had for pranking, and Ancient Runes can be a pretty useful elective. I know you want to take Potions to be an Auror, but (and I can't believe I'm about to say this) give the book a read. If nothing else, it might make the summer pass more quickly. It's not like you can just jump into advanced rune classes, but this starter might get your interest peaked. The Berkana rune was a great help in making the map. Your Godfather, Sirius Black.'

Harry bit back tears at what would be the last message he ever got from Sirius. Thankfully he was in his room, so he wouldn't have Dudley making fun of him. In truth, Harry had little interest in Ancient Runes. It was the kind of course that Hermione would take, not him. THIS book however, was the last gift from Sirius. Harry read it, imagining his Godfather when he was younger. The margins of the book were filled with notes on possible prank ideas, and some comments on other possible rune uses. Immersing himself the small, black, and ancient looking book made him feel better, so Harry read it over and over again.

After going over the book so many times, Harry had gotten interested in it - just a little. He wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts, but just drawing runes should be ok. Harry liked simplicity of it, and the sense that he was accomplishing something bit-by-bit. He looked down at the finished circle and wondered if this was the satisfaction that an artist would have upon finishing a painting. It was the most basic of arrays in the book, a circle that was supposed to make it easier to practice magic inside of it. Harry didn't follow a lot of the terms in the book like "bounded field" or "mana", but the description of this first circle was fairly straight-forward. Since it didn't do anything, then there shouldn't be a chance of him accidentally triggering anything and having the Trace activate.

It was then that his scar began to throb with pain. Something must've made Voldemort excited. Harry immediately sat down just outside of the circle, and started concentrating on his Occulumency lessons. He wasn't about to let Voldemort into his head again. If he'd just concentrated on his lessons, rather than trying to use the link between himself and the Dark Lord - Sirius would still be alive! A sharp twinge of guilt went through Harry, and he felt his magic rushing through his fingertips. His green eyes opened and he saw that his right hand was touching the circle, and that the runes were emitting a bright white light!

There was a sound like a crack of thunder, and within the circle a man suddenly appeared bathed in a blue glow that now emanated from the runes. The stranger was tall, easily more than 6 feet. His white hair was slicked back along his head, but his face didn't show any signs of old age. He wore what looked like some sort of light-weight black body armor under a bright red overcoat. Harry scrambled away, and pulled out his wand with the reflexes of a seeker. The stranger noticed his movement, turned to face the Boy-Who-Lived, and then bowed with one arm over his chest.

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EMIYA was ethereally flying across some suburbs on his way to another concentration of those associated with the threat to the world. Alaya's knowledge was absolute, and the Counter Guardian had access to this small fragment of it. Flight wasn't necessary, the power to maneuver in such a fashion was granted to him so he could perform his duty, but such power could also have allowed him to arrive instantly. He had time though, a good 30 minutes before his prey were to gather, and it was either take his time flying - which was a little enjoyable, or teleport there and spend time watching the people he'd wind up slaughtering.

Suddenly, he felt a very nostalgic pull. A summoning? That shouldn't have been possible! This dimension's magic didn't seem to have ever developed such a technique. There also wasn't anything like the Holy Grail around to help facilitate the massive mana reserves required for such an endeavor. Was the summoning directed at him? He could feel it's pull, but it wasn't so strong that he would be taken against his will. True, as a Counter Guardian, his existence had already been paid for by the Earth itself, so the Grail wouldn't be required. Maintaining his form as a Heroic Spirit would be another matter entirely, but that should be a moot point. What power could possible enforce it's will upon him?

The world disappeared in a flash of white light, and EMIYA found himself in a small bedroom inside a basic bounded-field formalcraft array. His gaze swept the room, and then he had his answer: Harry Potter, the one empowered by the Counter Force. Apparently his authority was sufficient to invoke the summons. EMIYA wasn't granted any knowledge from Alaya that wasn't relevant to his mission of extermination, so he'd only picked up who the Counter Force's champion was, and that he was still alive, by the old fashioned way. The "Death Eaters" had a keen interest in the boy.

EMIYA did a quick analysis of himself. The summons seemed incomplete, Again! He wasn't imparted with any particular knowledge of the time and location that he was in. His class seemed to be Archer, likely as a hang-over from his first summons. Perhaps this was only possible because he had the unique distinction of being a Counter Guardian that had once been summoned as a Servant? In any case, he should probably introduce himself to the boy before he either started throwing spells or had a heart-attack. EMIYA placed his right hand over his chest and gave a short bow of respect.

"By your summoning, I have come forth. Are you my Master?"

"What?" Oh right, English. It was a good thing that he naturally knew the language from his living days spent traveling the globe trying to be a 'Hero of Justice'. With no Grail granted knowledge, he'd have a difficult time if he only could speak Japanese.

"I am the servant Archer. I ask of you: Did you summon me?"

"Summon?" The boy looked down at the magic circle, and then back up with a sheepish look on his face. "I..I guess so..."

"You bear the command crests on your hand, so indeed, you must be my Master." On Harry's left hand there were three straight lines of a command crest. The lines were in connected in a zig-zag pattern that resembled the scar on the teenager's forehead. EMIYA, or Archer as he had started thinking of himself by his class again, nodded. This, this was an opportunity! He couldn't feel anything more than a trickle of od from the boy, so his time in this world was limited. His Independent Action trait was high: a hallmark of the Archer class. Thus, he could subsist on his own od reserves for a time, but as long as he was a servant - he wasn't a Counter Guardian! He didn't have to slaughter everyone, he could save them instead! Then the thought struck him! He had knowledge of the next place the Death Eaters would strike. He wouldn't get anymore information from Alaya as long as he was a Servant. At the very least he could prevent the deaths at the home he was heading towards before his summoning. "I am sorry Master, but there is someone that will die unless I save them, so I must depart."

Harry had looked down at his hand when Archer had mentioned the command crests. His eyebrows raised up in question, but by then EMIYA had already gone to the window and jumped out. He hadn't even opened it! A very confused Boy-Who-Lived was left alone in his room, wondering if he'd be brought up on underage magic charges again this year.

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Archer sped towards his destination. Now he wished he had the ability to teleport, as it was he'd have to rely on one of the two magecrafts that he was capable of: Reinforcement. The technique was as basic as can be, and thus was one of the reasons why even a 3rd-rate magus like him could use it. It consisted solely on pumping prana into an object. The difficulties were two-fold. First, you realistically could only use your internal prana - also know as od - to reinforce yourself. External prana, or mana, was too foreign to be accepted into a person's body. Secondly, while putting prana into something required no skill - the object would naturally be made faster, tougher, and/or stronger; putting even a drop more than the object could handle was disastrous. EMIYA had great practice with it, since he couldn't really perform more advanced magic. Thus, the newly summoned Heroic Spirit knew exactly how much he could force into his body.

Becoming etherial would allow him to take a more direct path, but at the cost of not having a body to reinforce. His best bet at arriving in time was to travel as quickly on foot as possible. He had 25 minutes, but that was before all the Death Eaters were gathered. Their intended victim could be dead long before then, since the murderous wizards stayed around for a time to plant that Dark Mark of theirs.

EMIYA's target came into view. The house, or rather the mansion, was situated in the middle of some rather large and lush lawns. Archer's reinforced eyes could make out 18 Deatheaters in three groups around the perimeter. Each group had half of it's members holding their wands up. The spell they were concentrating on caused their magical foci to glow with a pale red light. The group in front of the house, which happened to be the group between him and his target, had the remaining 3 members talking animatedly amongst themselves in a tight circle. Trace on. "I am the bone of my sword." With his aria, the former Counter Guardian projected his favorite blades: Kanshou and Bakuya. Kanshou was a pitch black sword with a tortoise pattern on it. A small triangle of white went up the side of the wide and curved blade. Above the hilt, at the base of the white triangle, was a ying-yang symbol. Bakuya was the mirror image of it's partner, only white like the haze of a cloud. Unlike normal projection, Archers blades weren't just his od forged into a specific shape. His skill was such that all aspects of what he was copying were included - from it's production process to it's accumulated years. It would be better to classify the effect as something unique to him: Tracing. Thus the twin blades held the magic of the original pair, not that EMIYA needed a Noble Phantasm to tear his way though a crowd of unsuspecting humans.

The red blur landed between the 3 Death Eaters that were only talking. Archer bent his knees and then propelled himself up and forward, all the while spinning. Kanshou cut open a femoral vein, Bakuya severed an arm, both blades lashed out at vital points, and when Archer's rotation stopped all that was left around him were corpses. The first of the 3 Death Eaters in a line didn't even notice the twin blades that separated his head from his body. His companion had just begun to turn to see what the strange sounds were, when EMIYA's kick caved in his chest. His limp body collided with the final cloaked wizard, and the two of them went down in a pile of limbs. Archer didn't spend any time on the final member of the group, he had none to spare. As he sprinted towards the house, he could sense himself passing into a bounded-field. The Death Eaters outside must have been maintaining some sort of ward. Something to prevent the person inside from escaping? In a matter of seconds, Archer had reached the door of the house, which he barreled through with a loud crack.

The foyer was in shambles, there had been a vicious fight there. Reinforced hearing picked up sounds of a confrontation coming from further inside. Archer moved forward with a deliberate pace, prepared for the worst. He came upon the ending part of a wizard's duel. A square-jawed witch with short cropped grey hair leaned with her back against one wall. Her side was stained a deep crimson as blood flowed between the fingers of her left hand. Her right hand held a wand and she used the sudden distraction of a new person entering the room to shoot a blue stream of fire at her opponent. Voldemort looked more snake than human. The Dark Lord casually flicked his wand and the blue fire sputtered out, that same instant he said "Avada Kedavra" and a pale green beam shot out at EMIYA.

Archer calmly accessed his options. Rho Aias could probably stop the spell, whatever it was. It was a defensive Noble Phantasm of the highest magnitude. It's seven petals were each as strong as a fortress wall. It would leave the woman vulnerable though. He could charge Voldemort, his speed would allow him to easily weave around the magic and strike it's source. It might even put an end to the catastrophe right then and there. Archer could also move to grab the woman, a large part of him wanted nothing more than to finally save someone again. In a fraction of a second, he made he decision.

The green light was easy to avoid, Archer's eyes could see the tiniest of movements, and his speed as a Heroic Spirit enabled him to change his momentum from a forward charge to a side-step. At the same time he threw Bakuya at Voldemort. The spinning white blade clanged off of the air a foot away from the Dark Lord, but EMIYA was already at the witch's side.

"If I get you out of this bounded field, can you escape?"

She looked at him with a puzzled expression, but the terms he used were fairly obvious to intuit in the current situation. "Yes."

"Good."

Archer threw Kanshou towards Voldemort, but the blade went wide. At first the Dark Lord though the stranger had missed with his last weapon, but then a white blade appeared from his chest as Bakuya tried to make it's way back to it's partner. Kanshou and Bakuya were forged by two blacksmiths: Gan Jiang and Mo Ye. The King of Wu had ordered the creation of two blades of peerless quality, but Gan Jiang couldn't produce such powerful weapons. Mo Ye, seeing her husband's desperation, threw herself into forge - right in front of him. Her sacrifice allowed the creation of blades approaching the realm of Gods. The love the two of them shared in life, was passed onto their swords in death. So now, the two blades attracted each other like magnets, and the white sword sought it's counter-part even after being deflected by Voldemort's shield. The spell the Dark Lord was preparing died on his lips as blood filled his mouth from a punctured lung. In the meantime, EMIYA grabbed the witch in his arms and raced towards the door. She continued to cast spells over his shoulder at their adversary, but soon the two of them were outside of the house and passing back though the hole in the defenses that the dead Death Eaters had left. The one surviving adversary had apparently decided that it was a better idea to go and get reinforcements from one of the other groups.

It took less than a minute to get far enough away that Archer though it would be safe to stop. He gently put his passenger down. The trip hadn't been good for her. Whatever had cut her side had been jostled in their escape, and her complexion was quite pale.

"Are you ok?"

The witch only nodded, and she mumbled spell after spell - directed at her wounded side. When she was finished, she turned to her rescuer. "My thanks good Sir. I had thought my wards sufficient, but clearly I was wrong."

A smile of pure joy came across EMIYA's mouth. He'd saved someone again, after so many years! "It was my pleasure ma'am. Can you teleport away?"

"I believe I'm capable of apparating, what about yourself?"

"I'm not capable of doing so."

"In my current state, I wouldn't want to risk either of us by side along apparating. We should be able to make it to a house with a Floo before the Death Eaters regroup. I believe Mr. Doge's house isn't too far. We should be able to trust him."

"No. Don't delay on my account. If you can get to safety do so. Trust me, I'll be fine."

She gave him a knowing look. "Alright, I'll go on my own, but only because I think I'd just be slowing you down. With your speed I imagine you could outrun and army of the Dark Lord's followers." With that said, she spun around and disappeared with a loud crack.

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"Here is the potion."

"Thank you, Severus."

"Sir, I feel I must protest your plan of action again!"

Albus Dumbledore let out a sigh. "I explained before didn't I? Voldemort expects young Draco to fail, and if he does then terrible fates will befall him and his mother. My life is forfeit already because of my foolishness with the ring, so paying it is not a high price. In fact, I would prefer a quick death to the drawn-out suffering this curse promises to inflict on me in due time."

"Still, to give up hope! Let me at least try to find a counter-measure."

"There is no time, and such an action would keep you from far more important duties."

"When those duties are killing you, I'd prefer they'd be put off!"

"I would spare Draco that pain, and for you it's not murder. You'll soul will be fine."

"That's not the point!"

The wizened old headmaster of Hogwarts suddenly turned his head. One of the many gadgets in his office had begun to tick in a (to him) peculiar fashion. He leaned forward and examined the odd clockish contraption with three legs through his half-moon spectacles. The slivery hands ticked forward twice, then back once. "Hmmmm... Most curious."

"What is it?"

"There's magical activity at the Potter residence."

"Is he in trouble?"

"I think not. The wards for damage and ill intent haven't been triggered, but neither has the Ministry's Trace."

"Hmpf! It's probably just Potter doing under-age magic again. I keep telling you he can't help showing off!"

"Yes, yes, you've made your opinion of Harry quite clear. I just wish you had given him a better chance, but the past is history and won't likely be changed. I'm going to go and investigate. I trust you'll be well?"

"Yes. I'll bring you another potion next week."

"Once again, thank you Severus. Now, Fawkes!" The phoenix flew from it's perch and alighted onto it's Master's shoulder. Then in a flash of phoenix fire, the pair vanished.

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Harry Potter opened his window and looked out. The strange man, or Archer as he called himself, had just leapt out of the window not 3 seconds ago, but he was already a small, red dot in the distance. Harry wanted to know what was happening? Was this something like Dobby? A magical servant he'd inexplicably summoned? Harry remembered a passage in Sirius's book, and quickly began leafing through it's ancient pages.

"Summoning can only be accomplished by the World, and even then it's considered a miraculous occurrence. Basic summoning requires a circle and a regent. If a specific individual is sought after, then the circle's design and composition; along with an appropriate regent should be used. The process is said to impart a Heroic Spirit - one that has been set aside by the World as a finished soul - into a vessel. The vessel is a class: a set of attributes and abilities that help form the spiritual and material body of the summoned. The large part of the summon's appearance and equipment comes from how that person is thought of in the age that they are summoned into. This is a more esoteric use of magical circles and should not be attempted without extensive studying. Unfortunately, such details are far too in depth to be included in this general text."

Since it was this book which had lead to Archer appearing, then Harry reasoned that it's information had to be at least half-way useful. The problem was it couldn't even be called a general overview! The World? Vessels? Classes? Heroic Spirits? None of those terms made sense to him, and it didn't seem like he was likely to get an explanation any time soon.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

There was a loud rapping at the door to Harry's bedroom. It must be his Uncle Vernon! What the patriarch of the Dursley family would want with him right now fled from Harry's mind. The outburst that would undoubtedly come from such "unnatural" markings on the floor sent him into a panic. Harry frantically looked around the room - there must be something he could use to cover them, preferably something that wouldn't seem out of place and arouse suspicion! His trunk? Too little. His bedsheets? Too noticeable.

From outside the door, he heard a familiar voice say: "I assure you Harry, such action isn't warranted at the moment. If you did cover that up, you'd just have to remove it in a moment."

"H-Headmaster?"

"Yes. So if you'd be so good as to open the door..."

Outside his room, Harry found a smiling Dumbledore waiting for him. The old wizard was dressed in his usual robes, and quickly moved into the room. A small grunt escaped his mouth as he looked at the circle drawn on the floor. Beside him, Harry fidgeted. He must have really done something wrong to get Dumbledore to come to Privet Drive. The Dursleys hated magic, and the Headmaster wasn't the kind of person to antagonize muggles. As he looked at his elderly mentor, Harry noticed his right had was black. It looked as if it had been burnt to a cinder. His question of what happened died on his lips - Dumbledore's brow was furrowed in deep thought. Harry decided he shouldn't interrupt what ever thought process was going on. After what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Harry my boy, would you be so kind as to explain to me what happened here tonight?"

"Ah, well, you see... I've been reading this book on Ancient Runes that Sirius left me. I wanted to do some practicing, and so I tried copying the most basic circle in the book. It wasn't supposed to do anything! But after I finished, I must've touched the circle, or done something else, because there was this flash of light and a strange man appeared within it! He said something funny-sounding, then asked if I was his 'Master'. I think he said his name was 'Archer' or something, and then he passed through the window and jumped out!"

"This book, where is it?"

"Right here Professor!"

Dumbledore had started to flip through Sirius's book, when large cat that was seemingly made out of white light appeared at his side. In a voice, that Harry felt he could almost recognize it said: "Amelia Bones was attacked in her house by Voldemort, but someone saved her. A group of Aurors are heading there to see if they can intercept any Death Eaters. Voldemort may still be there, so any help would be appreciated."

"Well Harry, it looks like I must be off. If you would be so kind, I would like to borrow this book for a little while." Dumbledore's eyes then glanced towards the window. "Actually, I may stay a little while longer. I think we are about to have some company."

A darkly tanned head with white hair peered up though the window. "Oh, I didn't know my Master had a guest. Excuse my interruption."

"Nonsense. Come inside. If you don't mind, I have a few questions for you."

Archer shrugged his shoulders and casually flipped through the window and landed lightly on his feet. His demeanor seemed different from when Harry had last seen him, this time the stranger was wearing a smile ear-to-ear. "I don't mind if you ask any questions, but I may not have answers that will satisfy you."

"You called Harry 'Master'. May I infer that there is a magical bond that compels you to do so?"

The smile disappeared from Archer's face, and he turned to his young summoner. "Master, should I answer these questions? Knowledge of my...situation, might aid your enemies if they caught wind of it."

"My enemies?"

"Yes, I believe you call them 'Death Eaters'."

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Archer. "

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Did you just have a run-in with these Death Eaters?"

"Ah, that." The red-clad man looked a little ashamed. "I only had that last piece of information, so I acted without orders. But I think the outcome is one my Master would appreciate. Of course, I don't think it really matters. I'm not long for this world, but I'm glad I got to save somebody again after all this time." With that, he bowed deeply to The-Boy-Who-Lived. "Thank you for summoning me."

Dumbledore glanced down at his right hand, and then cleared his throat. "I think your advise to discuss this in private has much merit. Harry, would you ask him to accompany me and answer my questions?"

"Uhm, sure. Archer, would you go with Professor Dumbledore and answer his questions?"

"As you wish."

"With that, I think time is of the essence. Harry, I'll see you again in let's say...2 weeks. Yes, that should be enough time. I'll take you so spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow. I trust that will be satisfactory?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Well then, we're off." With that, Dumbledore placed his left hand on Archers shoulder. "If you don't mind, we'll be traveling by phoenix fire. It's one of the few ways that Hogwarts' wards can be bypassed." The Servant gave a short nod of consent. In a flash of fire, Fawkes appeared on Dumbledore's shoulder, and then just as quickly, the pair disappeared in a brilliant flame.

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Archer didn't know what the old wizard wanted, but he was obviously on good terms with the Counter Force's champion. Even though Harry had told him to answer his questions, EMIYA didn't really feel like doing so. What he said was true though, even with the Archer Class's traditionally high rank in Independent Action, he wasn't long for this world. Any other class would've disappeared by now. The prana provided by an immature wizard wasn't enough to support a Heroic Spirit in the best of times. In this dimension, without the Holy Grail providing support, it wouldn't be long before his body started to break apart. In 2 weeks he wouldn't even be around anymore, and it wasn't like anything he could tell them would have an impact. The remainder of his knowledge from Alaya had been about that last attack, anything else he knew was either not important or really had no basis in this dimension. He hadn't even been granted the common knowledge that Servants usually received upon their summoning.

In fact, it might be best to just break his contract with the boy and disappear all together. It was unlikely that he'd be able to save anyone else in what little time he had remaining, and his presence was kinda disruptive. Unlikely didn't mean impossible though, and it wasn't like he had any reason to avoid changing things in this dimension...

All these thoughts went through Archer's mind as the white bearded wizard summoned some sort of fire elemental and teleported the two of them away. They appeared in a large circular room. A multitude of silver instruments adorned nearly every available flat surface. Some ticked, some whirled, some produced puffs of smoke. There was an enormous claw-footed desk, upon which sat a shabby pointed hat. The most interesting artifact in the office was a beautiful silver sword that was mounted on the wall. EMIYA instantly knew all of the history of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. It was categorized, and all knowledge of how it was forged and all the events that had ever occurred to it were placed along side all the other unlimited blades that Archer carried with him in his soul. Such a weapon was a sight to behold. Dumbledore noticed him looking at it.

"It's a marvelous blade, but I fear I'd never be able to wield it. I never went to school here after all."

"Ah, so you know of Hogwarts?"

Archer shook his head. "I know only of the sword. I've never heard of 'Hogwarts' before. Assuming that you don't mean the skin problems of a swine."

"Heh heh heh. Indeed I do not. Now, if you would indulge me - what are you?"

"I am a Servant."

"I fear you say that as if I could infer some meaning from it."

"My apologies, I am un-aware of the magic of this dimension and what terms you use."

"This dimension?"

"Yes, my home dimension shares many similarities, but many differences as well."

"So you are able to travel between dimensions?"

"No, only one sorcerer has ever gained that power that I know of - and I am not him."

"Then he brought you here?"

Archer shook his head. "Perhaps it would be better if I explained my situation myself. I fear I'm giving you the wrong impression."

"By all means then." Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk. He held up a small bowl filled with yellow candies. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you. First, do you know of the Counter Force, and Counter Guardians?"

"I'm afraid I know of no such terms, and I possess a passing familiarity with most magics."

"Very well. The Counter Force is...the will of the collective unconsciousness of humanity. If something would threaten humanity itself, then the Counter Force chooses a champion and provides them with exactly enough power to defat the threat."

"That would be young Potter?"

"Yes. It's important to note that the Counter Force only helps with the barest minimum. It seeks to make the two sides even, not to grant an advantage to either one."

"And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

"That's a rather appropriate way to say it. Nicely poetic."

"I try."

"In any case, if the champion fails, then the Counter Guardians take over. That's what I was, and will be again."

"But now you're a Servant?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I'm glad I cleared that up, but perhaps you could go into a little more detail for an old man such as myself?"

"Counter Guardians are the souls of those who promised themselves to..the Earth when they die. We exist outside of space, time, and dimensions. When the Counter Force fails, we come in and...completely wipe out everything and everyone associated with the threat."

"By everyone you mean?"

"Everyone. Anyone that was even tangentially related is killed. Most of the time our work is attributed to natural disasters."

"So you were preparing to..."

"In order to save humanity, I have wiped out towns, cities, races, countries, and continents. And I had already started. It seems like the collective unconsciousness is having doubts as to whether Harry Potter can win or not."

Dumbledore looked aghast. "That's the most horrific 'For the Greater Good' that I've ever heard of. It's monstrous!"

"I agree, but I can do nothing else. My actions belong not to myself in that regard. It is the Fate that is brought down onto the world by itself when it's champion fails."

"So why are you here?"

"It seems the Counter Force's champion tried a summoning. Such a thing shouldn't of worked, this dimension lacks even the most basic of theories on it. I however have been summoned before, so I suspect I didn't need the Grail to provide a vessel for me." EMIYA wondered about the command seals though. They were an essential part of the Master/Servant bond. As such, it was usually the Grail that provided them. Did they get 'copied' like his class?

"The Grail?"

"The Holy Grail. It provides Servants with a class: a template that their souls fill. Without that, a Heroic Spirit couldn't manifest at all. It also provides a substantial anchor to keep Servants in this plane of existence, as well as part of the massive mana our bodies require. Our very presence is extremely taxing, and no normal mage could sustain us on their own."

"So that is why you said you weren't long for this world?"

"Indeed. It is only due to the nature of my Class that I've survived so long already."

"Your class?"

"Archer."

"And how long have you been here?"

"I estimate no more than 2 hours."

"And how long until you die?"

"Probably not more than 2 weeks, but even that seems a rather optimistic estimate. But don't worry, I died a long time ago. The only thing that can happen is my soul returning to Alaya until the next time I'm summoned as a Counter Guardian."

"Doesn't your condition interfere with your...duties?"

"You could say that, but I'm not really all that eager to get back to those duties."

"So what would you like to do?"

At this, a smile returned to the face of the summoned Counter Guardian. "I'd like to save people." EMIYA found the simple truth of that statement ironic. Had his desires really come full-circle? For the longest time, he'd only wished for oblivion, and release from the duties Alaya had imposed upon him. It was that drive that had prompted his meeting with his alternate self. It seemed that young Shirou Emiya's dream had rekindled his own. He was confident that Rin would keep his counterpart from repeating his past mistakes, so why was he about to go down that very path again? Opening his heart up to the stolen ideals of his adopted father... it would only cause him more pain. No matter how THIS world's Fate ended up, he was still a Counter Guardian. His destiny was slaughter, not salvation. The glimmer of hope in his soul refused to die that easily. Even if he'd wipe out ten thousand innocents in the next world, at least he'd saved one here. If possible, he wanted to save more with whatever time he had left. The Counter Guardian EMIYA might be fated to kill, but the Servant Archer could spend his time as a true Hero of Justice.

"In that case, I might have a temporary solution that could aid us both."

"Oh?" Archer was quite surprised that anyone would capable of such a thing, but if Dumbledore could help him save more people...

"Tell me, what would you think of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

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A/N:

This Archer is from the Unlimited Blade Works route. Losing to his alternate-past self mellowed him out, so his personality will be a bit between EMIYA and Shirou.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been an interesting summer for the Boy-Who-Lived. His inadvertent summoning didn't seem to have any consequences. After that night, Dumbledore had indeed returned two weeks later to escort him to the Burrow. Along with the book he'd been reading, Sirius had apparently left him all of the Black family's estate. This included 12 Gimmauld Place and it's surly house-elf. Dumbledore had confirmed his ownership via the reluctant servant. Harry had given Kreacher an order that the miserable creature would object to. When the house-elf had preformed as commanded, grumbling all the while, Dumbledore was satisfied that the magical transaction had gone off without a hitch. He'd then asked Harry if the Order of the Phoenix could use the Black family estate for their headquarters, and Harry had readily agreed.

Life at the Burrow was as hectic as ever. Hermione had also arrived for the rest of the summer, and the trio were reunited. Fleur Delacour was also in residence. Ginny and Molly didn't seem to care much for the Quarter-Veela. True to Sirius's prediction, Snape had only given him an Exceeds Expectations in Potions. It looked like he and Ron wouldn't be in the unpleasant teacher's class this year. It wasn't until night-time that Harry had gotten some time alone with his friends. So much had happened already, that he was bursting at the seems to talk with them.

"Harry, I didn't want to bring it up in front of the others, but you've been acting strange all day." said Hermione.

"You guys aren't going to believe what happened to me this summer." Harry sat down on his bed.

"What do you mean, mate? We still have more than a month left of summer." Ron had a sausage in his hand that he'd raided from the kitchen as a late-night snack.

"It was two weeks ago. I was drawing some ancient runes.." At this announcement Hermione let out a noticeable humph. "Just as practice! See, I got this book from Sirius. After reading it, I wanted to try some of the designs in it. Nothing dangerous! Nothing that SHOULD have done anything."

"Honestly!" Hermione sniffed "Didn't you learn anything about strange books in our 2nd year?"

"But it was from Sirius, and it wasn't cursed or anything..." Harry was sure that Sirius would never send him anything dangerous. "Anyways, somehow this strange guy appeared in the circle I drew. He said his name was Archer and that I was his Master!"

"What?" came a twin chorus.

"He then jumped out through the window, and I mean through. He didn't open or anything. He just kinda turned transparent and jumped out like it wasn't even there. Dumbledore came by, and asked me some questions. Then that Archer guy came back and he and Dumbledore went off together."

"Wow, that's amazing!" Ron's mouth was hanging open.

"Do you think you made a connection to the Floo or something?" Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face. "I don't think you're house is connected though..."

"Nope, we aren't. The Dursleys would throw a fit if a wizard could just appear in their living room at any time of the day or night. Here take a look, the book says the circle is just supposed to keep 'ambient prana' out of the circle."

"'Ambient Prana', what's that?" Hermione's eyes shown with excitement as Harry fished out Sirius's book. Dumbledore had given it back to him late last night when he'd been brought to the Burrow.

"I dunno, but it doesn't sound like something that could connect to the Floo right?" Harry reasoned.

"So this guy just shows up, runs off, comes back, then leaves with Dumbledore? I would've thought he'd be more upset with someone breaking into your house." Ron was frowning.

"Well..." Harry thought back. "He did say that he'd done something that Voldemort wouldn't appreciate. After that, Dumbledore got a message from a Patronus about some Death Eaters that tried to kill someone."

"You mean Amelia Bones?" Ron asked excitedly. "Dad says that's all they've been talking about at the Ministry. You-Know-Who attacked her himself, but some foreign wizard came to her rescue. She's the Minister for Magic now that Fudge got sacked!"

"Fudge got sacked?" Harry asked excitedly. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"You got that right mate!" Ron beamed, and then tore off a chunk of the meat he was holding.

"Ron, do you have any idea of what the stranger who saved Minister Bones looked like?" Hermione had taken the small black book of Sirius, and was leafing through it.

"Well, he was huge. Not as big as Hagrid, but really tall! He had dark skin, white hair, and wore a red robe! Like an auror's, but different." Ron helpfully explained.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "That's Archer!"

"The guy from the circle?" Ron sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, tall, white hair, red overcoat - it has to be the same person!" Harry couldn't imagine the coincidence that two such wizards had showed up at the same time

"What did Dumbledore have to say about him?" Hermione looked up from the book.

"Dumbledore...I, uh, kinda forgot to ask." Harry said sheepishly.

"Harry.." Hermione nearly whined. "Well, it's not like we won't have the chance to find out later. I have another question for you though."

"What is it?"

"What's with that 2nd scar on your hand?" Hermione pointed at the symbol that had showed up alongside Archer.

Harry looked down at the 2nd lightening bolt scar he now possessed. This one looked more like a tattoo then a scar though. "Ah, it just kinda showed up when Archer did. It's actually what caused him to call me 'Master'. I did ask Dumbledore about it! He looked it over, and told me not to worry. He said that it's use would be explained to me once school started."

"It's use?" Ron had finished his snack. "What kind of use can a tattoo have?"

"I dunno, but there's one more thing...I've been having dreams again." Harry looked at the floor as he admitted something that embarrassed him to his friends.

"Harry! You have to keep Voldemort out of your mind." Hermione had entered lecture mode.

"That's just the thing though. I've had my Occulmancy shields up and I'm still having the dreams. They're about Archer, not Voldemort. Unless he's running around fighting supernatural creatures every night, they're not a link to his mind...I don't think." Harry didn't know what to make of the visions he'd been having. The red-clad wizard had been fighting battle after battle. He didn't use a wand though. Archer seemed to prefer swords.

"So you're having dreams again, but they're about Archer not Voldemort?" Hermione clarified.

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore said it was an expected side effect. He didn't tell me what it was a side effect of though."

"What?"

"Yeah, he said that it wasn't his place... Like I said, it's been a weird summer so far."

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"Crucio!"

Peter Pettigrew writhed on the floor in pain. The only sounds that accompanied him were those made by his clothing rustling against the stone floor of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort's wrath had abated a little in these past 2 weeks, but the tortured Deatheater had already screamed himself hoarse. The Dark Lord was making an example of what would happen to others who abandoned their posts. The fact that said running away resulted in Amelia Bones escape didn't help Pettigrew's case. A dark-robed figured entered the room, and lowered the hood around his head.

"Ah, Severus, I trust you've finally brought me some information."

"Yes, my Lord. I've learned the identity of the man who...caused you some distress these past two weeks."

Voldemort motioned for the other Death Eaters that were in attendance to leave. Bellatrix Lestrage gave a withering look at Snape on her way out, but held her tongue. "Speak, servant."

"His name is Archer, and he's a foreign wizard. I can only assume he's a prodigy in order to withstand your wrath. I believe him to be of Japanese descent, though his appearance does not match their usual features. Dumbledore has welcomed him, and he's been appointed the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape couldn't keep a sneer from his usually stoic features after announcing he'd lost the chance for the teaching post he so desired for another year.

"So this Archer will be under Dumbledore's protection as well? Bah! I'll have my revenge on him for daring to wound me! To think I'd assume he was a filthy muggle because he was using swords of all things! No! I shall not underestimate him next time! He'll pay with his life's blood! First he stopped me, and then all the Death Eaters I've sent out to London since that night have died!"

"May I ask what happened with the blade that drew your blood, my Lord? I am worried about if it might have been poisoned or cursed."

Peter Pettigrew began to stir, and Voldemort casually pointed his wand at him and said "Crucio." He then turned back to his most competent servant. "Both of the swords he used disappeared after he fled. I think they were nothing more than conjured blades. They were enchanted, but nothing that would complicate a wound."

"I am glad to hear that."

"Severus, tell me. Is what Bella says true? Did you make an unbreakable vow for Malfoy's wife?"

"Indeed my lord. It was for a task that I had planned on performing already, so it was of no real concern."

"Yes, it even seems to have silenced dear Bella's sharp tongue."

"Do you have any orders for me concerning the foreign wizard, my Lord?"

"He must die, but I wish to do so myself. It would be best if we could lure him out of Hogwarts before the...finale. His presence might make the task I've given to Draco and you more difficult."

Severus Snape gave a short bow. "I will see what I can do, Lord Voldemort."

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2 Weeks ago...

"Defense Against the Dark Arts? What's that?" Archer asked the Headmaster.

"It's a teaching position here at the school." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Archer didn't know what the elderly magus was up to.

"How does me being a teacher help either of us? Sitting around in a classroom isn't exactly the best way for me to use the time I have remaining."

"It helps me because I think you'll be a valuable asset against Voldemort. It will also aid in ensuing young Potter's safety. It should help you by providing you an 'anchor'."

"An anchor."

"While Hogwarts cannot compete with the Holy Grail, I'm fairly certain it's magic will be enough to help you maintain your form. This castle was build over a millennium ago by the four most celebrated wizards of the age. It is one of the most powerful magical locations in the world, and being a teacher aligns you with it's wards - for Hogwarts was intended to be a school from it's very conception."

Archer considered what the wizard had said. He knew it was possible to maintain a Servant by means other than the Grail. In his service to Alaya he'd seen it occur multiple times. It had always been done by prodigies. If his presence could be incorporated into the very impressive bounded fields that surrounded them, it very well might work. He'd even seen a similar technique employed to maintain Assassin in the 5th Holy Grail War. "I think your theory is quite sound, but what about the current teacher of the class?"

"Ah, there is no current teacher. The last one had a rather...intense run in with some centaurs last year. You see, the teaching position itself has been jinxed ever since I refused to give the job to Lord Voldemort."

"The Dark Lord wanted to teach at your school? What a mundane goal for a threat to humanity."

"Oh yes. He wasn't known as Voldemort then. He was still going by his given name of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"So you want me to accept a cursed job? THAT's your solution?"

"The jinx only prevents the professor from staying for more than one year. There have been both positive and negative outcomes from this. Since your own existence is fleeting, I'm hoping the jinx will actually help us. It always seems that we get most of a year of service before things come to a head, no matter what efforts I've made."

Archer nodded. "To be a mage is to walk with death after all. Why did Riddle curse the job? Was it to hinder education? Why not curse all the jobs, or the entire school?"

"Magic to inflict such a powerful and long-lasting curse is hard for even the Dark Lord to perform. It cannot be done without a significant emotional attachment. I believe that Voldemort's great desire for having the position for himself was the fuel that the jinx needed."

"Great, a Dark Lord that's upset that he never got tenure." Archer rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure what I could teach though. I think our methods of performing magic are rooted in very different fundamentals."

"Then by all means, teach your fundamentals. The students should be exposed to as much knowledge as possible."

Fundamentals...that was perhaps the one thing he was capable of teaching others. Tracing was far too reliant on his personal element and origin to realistically be learned by anyone else. "Then let me ask you one last thing. How can I trust you, and how can you trust me? We've known each other for less than an hour. It seems a bit immature for you to be offering me a job."

"I myself, have had far shorter interview than this, but I can see your point. I trust you because you are an enemy of Voldemort, you've already saved the life of one of his intended victims, and unless you are an Occlumens of surpassing ability - you're telling me the truth. I hope that you can trust me because of my forthrightness with you, and because I'm providing you the means with which to stay in this world."

Staying a Servant didn't seem to have any downside for Archer. Without a doubt, Alaya had already summoned another Counter Guardian to take over his duties. Mankind didn't survive by sheer luck after all. There was one thing that Dumbledore had said that bothered him though. "What is an Occlumens, and why does me not being one make you so confident that I'm telling the truth."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "An Occlumens is one who practices Occlumency - which is the art of defending one's mind from mental intrusions. It's an old, and somewhat less well known art. I must confess that I was using Legilimency to probe your thoughts. I do hope you don't take offense."

EMIYA was a bit concerned that his mind had been read, but he was more worried about it happening in the future. As a 3rd rate Magus in life, his magical resistance wasn't notable. The Archer class increased it a bit, but still his rank was only "D". It really was convenient to have his abilities categorized and quantified by the class system, it let him judge his powers far more accurately that Structural Analysis ever would. A strong magus could easily overcome his resistance, so Dumbledore's reading of this thoughts seemed possible. "I'd like to test something, could you try reading my mind again?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. Archer activated his magic circuits, and began to circulate od. Opening one's circuits and letting your internal prana circulate was the most basic of spells. It was needed to do practically anything, but it always was accompanied by intense pain. Archer, like most mages, and grown accustomed to it over the years and the fire inside of him didn't distract him in the slightest.

Circulating one's prana made your od available to be used for more impressive magics. It was also what gave magi resistance to the curses of their compatriots. When a spell was cast on a person, it was a matter of forcing your prana into their body to accomplish some effect. Circulating od was like turning on the water in gunked up pipes. Foreign prana would be washed away with time.

"I could not so much as read your surface thoughts that time. It felt like every time I caught ahold of an idea or emotion, that it was swept away before I could understand it. I am not familiar with the technique you just used, but it seems just as effective as Occlumency."

"If you'd like to learn, you should visit my class. It's the most basic of abilities I can teach. Perhaps you can tell me how magic works around here?"

"Oh?

"I don't think our methods of magic are the same. Most magi I've seen here seem to use a foci to practice their art."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is rare for a wizard or witch to be able to perform wandless magic. Even those that do accomplish such a feat find that the spells do not have the same ease or power."

Archer put his hand to his chin and furrowed his brow. "It sounds like you use a foci to draw in mana from the environment to power your spells." Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. "Let me explain. My upbringing in magic categorized prana into mana and od. Prana is just magical energy, it's what allows magic to be done. Mana is ambient prana in the environment, it's difficult to shape, but is a far more vast source than od, which is a magus's personal energy."

Dumbledore had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Do other things such as dragons have od? Would it be possible that it's stored in their blood?"

"As a matter of fact, fluids like blood are easy for prana to merge with and they retain the energy longer. Blood magic is...well, what you do is your business I guess."

"I'm just thinking of a 13th use for Dragon's Blood, that's all."

"So this world has dragons, lovely."

"Indeed, though they are growing closer to extinction with their habitats being harder and harder to sequester from the muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non magical humans."

Their own word for non-magi? That spoke of some serious social issues, but worrying about that wasn't going to prevent Harry's loss. "When you cast without your wand, is there pain?" When Archer had first learned magic, he had a fundamental lack of understanding. Instead of opening his magic circuits, he made himself a new one by using his spine. It was...intense. Regular magic had never seemed like anything but a small pinch compared to that. Most mages found circulating their od to be quite painful.

"Pain? No. It's takes more of a strain, but using magic doesn't cause pain." That was strange, there was ALWAYS pain. This world's magic, or a least wizards, must be more different than he'd first thought. Dumbledore motioned with his empty right hand, and a small ball of light appeared. Another motion and the light blinked out.

"Forgive my intrusion, but what happened to your arm?"

Dumbledore looked at his right hand, which was as black as pitch. "My foolishness got the best of me, it's the result of a particularly nasty curse."

"Will you be ok? Can you still fight?"

"Yes, arrangements have already been made. I am on a potion regiment for it."

"Ah good." EMIYA's skill was with swords. Healing with spellcraft was something that only a skilled mage should attempt. He did have a few anti-magic Noble Phantasms. If he was ever suffered a curse that pierced his magic resistance, turning them on himself might be the only option. Dumbledore might have said he trusted him, but the elderly magus would surely balk at the idea of being stabbed to cure a simple curse. Besides, 'Rule Breaker' would annul all magical spells and contracts on the individual. That might have some adverse reactions with the number of bounded fields that Dumbledore seemed to be incorporated into.

"If there is nothing else, I am needed at the scene of a recent attack. Feel free to wander the castle. If you need anything, just ask and a house-elf will provide it for you." Dumbledore turned to a portrait of a wizard that seemed to be napping. "Mr. Dippet, would you see that our newest professor can find his quarters?" He turned back to Archer. "I'll formally add you the wards tomorrow if that's all right."

"Of course."

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Life at the Burrow had fallen into a comfortable routine. The trio would wake up at various times, eat a hearty breakfast cooked by Ms. Weasley, and then they would enjoy the last days of their summer break. Harry mainly hung out with Ron and Ginny. The youngest Weasley had grown into an energetic girl that was a far cry from the shy 1st year she'd once been. Her personality was emphasized by her quick wit and sharp tongue, no doubt traits she'd picked up from living with the twins all her life. Harry had gotten over the fact that he wouldn't be able to become an auror, while Ron was thrilled at not having Snape as a teacher this year. Hermione had spent nearly the entire time studying the little black book Sirius had left Harry. She kept comparing the runes inside of it to those in her Ancient Runes textbooks. Most of the runes were similar, but the notes and annotations from "The Formal Craft of Runes" were completely different. Harry had gleaned from her lectures that Ancient Runes had nothing to do with practical magic. It was an dead language like Latin, that wizards liked using.

She had agreed with Harry that none of the drawings in the book could have possibly done anything - according to her other textbooks. This was further supported by the Golden Trio trying every circle and array from the increasingly mysterious book with absolutely no effect. Harry was pretty sure she was writing a paper for extra credit in Ancient Runes in her spare time. Finally, the day to get supplies from Diagon Ally came. Ron's father had said that there'd be someone to escort them. Their guide was chosen by the Minister herself. The fireplace's hearth glowed green as a robed figure spun into being. Harry immediately recognized the wooden complexion and the electric-blue eye that constantly swiveled in one socket.

"Mad-eye!"

"Hello, Harry. It's nice to see you again under better circumstances."

The first time Harry had actually seen Alastor Moody had been right after Cedric's death. The former auror had been kept prisoner in his magical chest for the entire school year. Barty Crouch Jr. had used him for polyjuice materials and had used veritaserum to find out how he should act. Mad-eye had been his favorite teacher, but in truth the two of them had never been in a classroom together. Moody was also one of the Order of the Phoenix that Harry had nearly gotten killed with his visit to the Department of Mysteries.

"So you're accompanying us to Diagon Ally?" Ron spoke up.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Minister Bones appointed Kingsley to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He's letting me work as an auror, but I'm not part of the Ministry. I don't trust those lot. Someone high up gets imperiused, and everything goes bottoms up!" Moody's constant pacing and wooden leg made a thumping sound as he circled the room with his wand drawn. "Now everyone - oldest to youngest - take the floo to 'TerrorTours'"

"TerrorTours? We're not going to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"We're not taking the Ministry Cars?"

"We're not going with our parents?"

"Of course not! That's exactly what they'd expect us to do!"

"Who would expect what?" Ron asked while looking confused.

"Anyone who would expect the Boy-Who-Lived to go to Diagon Ally today, would expect him to go through the Leaky Cauldron! CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Who knows if it's a Death Eater, or a spy, or an ancient curse given form that wishes to erase you from existence? Doing what you're expected to is the easiest way for your enemies to get the drop on you!"

"Uhm...ok." Ron summed it up nicely for everyone else.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were followed through the floo by Mad-eye.

"Right, where do you lot want to go first?"

Hermione raise her hand. "I'd like to go to Flourish and Blotts."

"Since you all have to get your books, it'd make sense. I suppose you can manage a shrinking charm so you won't have to lug them all over the place?"

Hermione nodded. There didn't seem to be any objections so the group headed out with Mad-eye in the lead.

Harry looked over his list of needed books. Without Potions, it seemed small. Any lingering ideas he had of taking Ancient Runes as an elective died when he saw Hermione levitating a stack of books that was taller than herself. "You're not using a time-turner to take more classes again this year are you?" Harry whispered in her ear.

The female Gryffindor scoffed. "I learned my lesson. I'm getting all the books on Ancient Runes I can. Sirius's book can't be the only one."

Just then Ron came up. "Whew." He whistled appreciatively at the stack of books his friend had picked out. "That's...uhm...impressive 'mione."

She gave him a small smile and said: "Thanks." She then tilted her head to the side. "These are all pretty standard though. What do you think of going by Obscurus Books and seeing what they have."

Ron looked a little surprised, but decided discretion was the better part of getting between Hermione and books. "Sure thing. Whatever you want."

"That took longer than I'd thought. Good thing we started early." Moody greeted them by the exit. "So where to...hold up."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"There's a little snake prowling about on his own. Let's get you lot to Ollivander's. It'll be safe there, I have a little information gathering to do." The ex-auror hurried them out of the shop. "Don't be following me with that cloak of yours either! You know I'll see you. Stay put and stay safe."

After hurriedly escorting them to the wand shop, Moody tapped his head with his wand. There was a sound like a cracking egg, and the ex-auror vanished from sight. Harry looked around the store. It was exactly like he remembered it: dusty and packed full of wands. The owner didn't seem to be around though. "AH!" An involuntary cry escaped his lips as he turned back towards his friends, only to see Ollivander standing behind them.

"Ah Mr. Potter - Holly 11 inches, Phoenix feather, nice and supple. Ms. Granger - Vine 10 and 3/4 inches - Dragon heartstring, firm and unbending. Mr. Weasley - Willow, 14 inches, Unicorn Hair, flexible. Ms. Weasley I presume? I have not had the honor of helping a wand find you yet. May I ask what brings you youngsters to my shop today?"

"Uhm." Harry scratched the back of his head. "We just decided to stop by I guess. How are you doing Mr. Ollivander?"

"I've been rather busy. Death Eaters have been showing up dead in the streets. It makes for exciting mornings. Everyone's talking about the vigilante. How have you been? Nasty work that tournament." Harry had last seen Ollivander when he had presided over the weighing of the wands at the Tri-wizard Tournament. "Oh! Can I see your hand?"

"My hand?"

Ollivander grasped Harry's hand and peered intently at the lightening marking. He tilted his head side to side with a look of intense concentration. The next thing Harry knew, the wand-maker had his measuring tape out and was mumbling 'Interesting' under his breath. "Did you by any chance pick up another wand recently?"

"What? Another wand? No, nothing like that."

"Ah, I thought not. It's similar to the bond between a wizard and a wand, but far stronger. It's a chain. You were chosen, and then you chose. Could this be done with wands as well? I wonder..." Ollivander started scribbling notes in a small book that was suddenly in his hand, completely ignoring the four youngsters in his shop.

"Well, that was interesting, but I'd rather know what Moody's up to." Ron looked annoyed. "We don't need security. It's Diagon Ally for crying out loud!"

"You want to tell him that? Or do you want to leave and have Mad-eye track us down?" At Ginny's observation, they decided that perhaps it would be better to stand around in the wand shop.

It was boring looking out the window, but it was all there was to do. Ron tugged Harry's arm and pointed across the street. "Hey is that Mundungus?"

"Yeah, it is. I wonder what he's doing here."

Ginny had come up beside them. "Hey! I recognize that music box he's holding. That's from the attic right?"

"Ginny, I've never seen that in our attic before."

"Not OUR attic. The attic at..." She looked around cautiously. "THAT place."

"What place."

"You know, the place we were cleaning last summer?"

"Wait." Harry said. "You mean Sirius's house?"

"Yeah! I'll never forget that box! The thing almost put me to sleep with it's horrible music!"

"What's he doing with it?" Ron wondered.

"I know somebody that can tell us. Kreacher!"

With a crack, the reluctant house-elf appeared. Kreacher's bloodshot eyes scanned the room before settling on Harry. "The Potter brat called and Kreacher appeared. Why would Kreacher be called away from his horrible new work? To be in the presence of filth? To listen to the little mudblood prattle on?" His bulbous nose wrinkled in disgust. "The smell of the dirty mudbloods are all around Kreacher. What must Kreacher do?"

Harry lost his patience with the disagreeable elf's soliloquy, and pointed out the window. "Do you see that box that Mundungus is holding? Isn't that from...uh...my house?"

"Kreacher doesn't see the filthy Mundungus. Perhaps master's eyes are as rotten as his blood? Kreacher always said..."

"Enough! Stop talking except to answer my questions." A gurgle came from Kreacher. He grasped his small hands around his throat and seemed to be choking on what he wanted to say. "What do you mean you can't see him?"

"Kreacher...cannot...see...Mundungus."

"Oh c'mon! He's right..." Ron motioned outside the window, then stopped. "Harry, I think he went inside that shop."

"He went inside the Junk Shop?"

"Kreacher doesn't know."

"All right, all right. Kreacher, quickly go back to my house and look for the music box that was in the attic. The one that puts people to sleep when they hear it. Come right back and tell me if you found it or not."

"Kreacher understands." With a crack, the house-elf vanished.

"I guess we wait for him then?" Ron asked. "You did tell him to be quick, but who knows what that little monster will be up to?"

"I told him to come right back, so he shouldn't get into any trouble... I think."

The four continued to wait. Ollivander didn't seem to have paid any mind to the commotion in his shop. In fact, as Harry looked around, the wand maker seemed to have vanished just as suddenly as he'd arrived. The door suddenly flew open to reveal Mad-eye.

"What are you lot just doing standing around in the open? Any fool could see you through the window! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"Mr. Moody," Hermione spoke up "did you find what you were looking for?"

The ex-auror smiled. "I found something very nice indeed."

A crack signaled the return of Kreacher. His teeth were barred and his bat-like ears were flared out. The white hair inside of them quivered as Kreacher shook with rage. Moody's wand was on him in an instant, but he stopped as soon as he recognized the elf.

"Filthy scum. Filthy, filthy, Halfblood! Thieving scum! Filthy, thieving scum!" The small creatures hands were balled up so tightly in fists that his fingers had turned white.

"Kreacher, calm down." The house-elf's shaking stopped. As his master, even Harry's comforting words were viewed as an irrefutable order. "Now tell us what happened."

"The box was gone. Ransacked from where Kreacher hid it! Other things were missing, but Kreacher couldn't check because filthy Potter told Kreacher to come right back and to be quick!"

"What?!" Hermione shrieked. "He really was stealing from you?"

"Who was?" Moody asked. "What's going on?"

Ron piped up. "We just saw Mundungus going into the Junk Shop, with a music box from...Harry's new house."

"Stole it! He stole it! Kreacher is supposed to keep the Black treasures safe for when Potter brat dies and Mistress Bellatrix claims them! If Kreacher was at home instead of filthy school for mudbloods, Kreacher would've caught the filthy, dirty, thieving scum!"

"I'll handle this, don't you worry." Harry was scared of the look on Mad-eye's face. His magical electric blue eye was locked onto something across the road. His wooden leg seemed to make a thunderous sound as he stomped out the door and across the street. In what seemed like seconds he came back carrying a small bag. As he passed through the door, he tossed the bag to Harry. "I think this is yours. Shopping is over for the day." A chorus of 'Awwwws' sounded at the announcement. "We'll come back tomorrow. Let's get you lot home. I have some business to take care of."

Harry looked inside the bag. There was an ornate crystal bottle, full of what looked like blood, a locket, a snuffbox, some rusty daggers, and the music box. Harry recognized all the items as being from 12 Gimmauld Place. He handed the bag to Kreacher. "Kreacher, take these home where they were before Mundungus took them. Then go back to the kitchens at Hogwarts."

There was an uncharacteristic look of joy on the house-elf's face. "Yes! Kreacher will take these back where they belong. Kreacher will keep them safe!" With a crack, Kreacher was gone, and Moody escorted the rest of group back to the Floo. The next day, when Moody came to escort them to Diagon Ally - this time through a different shop's fireplace. He told Harry not to worry. Mundungus wouldn't be stealing anymore Black family heirlooms.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

1 Week ago...

Dumbledore entered the library where his newest Defense professor had apparently been spending literally every single moment during the day since he had been added to the wards. Voldemort was on the loose. There was a new, and far more competent Minister. Death Eaters were being killed in the streets of London. The next school year was starting. The curse from the ring was slowly killing him. He still held major positions in several prominent wizarding organizations. More information was needed to be gathered about the details of Voldemort's immorality. In other words, Dumbledore was being kept quite busy. Today was the first free time that he really had to go over Archer's lesson plan, and figure out exactly what information the Servant could be trusted with. Harry was probably a Horcrux. Dumbledore wanted to save him that pain, even though his death didn't have to be final. Not knowing could even save his friends if Harry tried to sacrifice himself like his mother did. The most vital reason to not tell Harry though, was that the young Gryffindor's mind was still too vulnerable to Voldemort. Any secret Harry knew wasn't guaranteed to stay that way for long. Archer was a powerful and unknown piece on his side, but he was Harry's Servant. There might not be any secrets between the two of them.

The red-clad Defense professor was sitting at a table, drinking tea and reading 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5'. Piles of other books laid strewn about and Archer had several opened to apparently important cross-referencing points. When Dumbledore drew close, Archer looked up.

"Hello Dumbledore, what can I do for you?"

"I was just checking in. The school year starts soon, and all teachers need to present a lesson-plan. Your circumstances are understandably different, but I felt that the two of us could benefit from a little chat."

"I've read most of the relevant texts for my classes, as well as other information that would be considered common knowledge here. I'm up to date on the latest happening, though I do doubt the professionalism of 'The Daily Prophet'. I'd hate to see it's competition if it's the most popular news source you guys have. I find it hard to trust what it says really happened in several cases - especially the finale of the Tri-Wizards Tournament."

"Ah, nasty work that. Harry was kidnapped by one of Voldemort's most fanatic followers. Barty Crouch Jr. was posing as a friend of mine called Alastor Moody. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor that year. Harry's blood was required to resurrect Voldemort, and poor Mr. Diggory was the Dark Lord's first victim upon his revival."

"That's quite a different story than the newspapers told. Voldemort ran around for an entire year before there was any warning or official action taken? Geez. That's... impressive in it's own way. I guess."

"If you'd like, I can show you my memories of that event with my pensieve."

"I came across that term a few times, but I don't know what it is."

"It is a device for viewing thoughts. It's quite useful in figuring things out. Sometimes you miss something on your first go around."

Archer nodded. "I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good. I'll make some time for us to do so before the term starts. About your lesson plan, I can arrange to have another professor help you out. I understand you've been as busy as I have, almost not leaving the library since you came."

"Servants don't need to sleep. The bond to Hogwarts is providing me with ample prana, so I decided to use my time to learn what I should be teaching. I can't do magic the same way that you do, but at least I can go over book material."

"In that you might be better than most professors we've had over the years. Has the port-key I made for you been working out?"

"Yep, from Hogsmeade to Big Ben and back - like a charm."

"Is that where you've been going every night?"

"Reading books is well and good, but I find it's easier to get a feeling by direct observation."

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about the wizards in Death Eater outfits that have shown up dead in the mornings recently."

"I suspect they died because I shot them with my bow."

"How? Why?"

"I'm an Archer, long range attacks are my specialty. Picking out people with magical signatures that are dressed like that is a pretty basic ability for a Servant like me. I mean, masks? Really? They stood out like sore thumbs. As for why, they were all about to accost someone or break into a building." Archer smirked. "I just beat them to the punch."

"They could've been innocent people under the Imperius curse!"

Archer's gaze turned cold. It didn't match the crooked smile he still wore. "So you mean to say, that your opponent's plan of using hostages will have a 100% success rate?"

"No, no... I just wish it wasn't like that. It's best to cut the head off of a snake, but sometimes poisoned flesh must be cut away." Dumbledore looked down at his right hand. "I had an old friend who did terrible things in the name of the greater good, so I guess I don't have the right to judge."

"My morals have been called distorted in the past, but if I hadn't killed those people, they would've killed others right? Or perhaps forcefully converted them? Or tortured them for information? Besides, I personally think death is preferable to that atrocity you people call a prison." Archer's words were at odds with what Dumbledore could glean from his mind. Thankfully, Archer wasn't raising his defenses around him. Perhaps it was a sign of trust? His newest teacher grieved for those who he had killed. It felt like another betrayal of all he held dear. Archer desperately wanted to save everyone, to let everyone live. The pain felt old. Older than he was. Older than he could fathom. So did the betrayal. In order to save people, Archer had killed. Over and over, he'd killed to save. The grief never lessened, it grew inside of him and drove him to try and save even more people. Dumbledore felt a profound sense of pity for Archer at that moment. It was true that he'd taken countless lives, but he regretted each one. His soul had been torn by his actions, and repaired by his regret so many times... How could someone withstand that pain? "If you try to save everyone, then you won't be able to save anyone." Archer's words tore Dumbledore from his musings.

"I suppose you're right. I won't judge your actions. If I accept what you are, then I can't complain about your methods." The old man sighed. He was feeling every one of his hundred and fifteen years. "There's still one more thing that you should do before the start of the term. For appearances, you might want to go to Diagon Alley and buy yourself a wand. It's expected of wizards, and not having one might raise suspicions."

"If that's all, it won't be a problem." A white wand appeared in Archer's hand. Holly. 11 inches.

"Is that young Harry's wand?"

"Only a copy. Wands aren't swords, but I took the time to analyze my Master's weapon. Tracing it isn't as natural, but it should work."

"Indeed. May I see it?" Dumbledore examined the offered wand. He could feel the thrum of magic within it. It even felt like Fawkes! "Remarkable. I'm not an novice at wand lore, yet I cannot tell a difference." With a flick of the wand and an "Accio book", the text Archer had laid back down on the table moved through the air to Dumbledore's awaiting hand. "This isn't Harry's wand, but it still can do magic. I didn't think such a thing was possible. Could you do it with another wand?"

"If I can study it for a while. Analyzing anything that isn't a sword is always more difficult for me." Dumbledore gave back the copied wand, and took out his own. Archer scrutinized it. "This wand has a long history, but I think I have it." Slowly in his hand, particles seemed to coalesce into a 15 inch stick made of Elder wood and adorned with carvings of elderberries along it's length. Dumbledore tentatively took it when offered.

"It's similar, but weaker. It doesn't have the same power as the original, and it doesn't recognize me as it's Master. Could you do this with anything?"

"Only weapons. For things that aren't swords like spears and shields, it becomes more difficult. The prana cost can double or triple, and powerful objects naturally cost more anyways. For something that couldn't be called a weapon, I can only do normal projection. I can't copy it's powers."

"It is still a powerful magic. If I had more time, I'd like to study it further."

"Many have, but I'm the only one who I've found that can do it."

"There is only one more matter." Dumbledore continued to probe the Servant's mind. It was difficult, but without the barrier he'd shown before it was possible. It wasn't Occulmancy, there wasn't any hiding of thoughts or showing selected ones. Rather, Archer's nature seemed to reject the magic offhand. His status as a Servant must provide him a measure of protection against such spells. Dumbledore had confidence in his Legilimency. To be so pressed was a testament to his new teacher's resilience. It was an invasion, but he had to be certain. Archer's help could mean the downfall of Voldemort. He was a power the Dark Lord knew naught. It could also inflict harm on Harry, and in the worst case cause the young man to do something foolish and rash. "If I asked you to keep something from Harry for his own good, could you?"

Archer didn't seem perturbed by the question. With a shrug he answered. "If it was in his best intensions I wouldn't tell him. He might be my Master and the Counter-Force's champion, but he's still a teenage boy. They have the tendency to do pretty stupid things. The command seal could be used for force me to answer, but unless he knows the question, that shouldn't be a realistic possibility."

Dumbledore could see the means that Archer had thought of to evade such an order - stabbing himself with a wicked looking dagger. The fact that he considered such an extreme action only underlined his alien nature. It also made Dumbledore feel secure in sharing his confidentiality. He'd already put up privacy wards before he entered the Library, but it was impossible to be too cautions with this information. "You must not let anyone know of this. Use your barrier when looking into people's eyes from now on. If Voldemort learned what I know, then it may become impossible to defeat him."

Archer's face had become grim. He nodded his consent.

"I suspect Voldemort created a dark artifact called a Horcrux. There is only one book I know of that speaks of such vile magic, and I have no proof that he ever read it. Something must have prevented his death more than a decade hence, and an object that contains a piece of his soul fits the available evidence. As long as it exists, he's tied to this plane and cannot truly die. The oddity is that I have already encountered two such objects. I only suspected the nature of them too late, but the mere presence of two suggests more. Finding them will be our most arduous task, but he likely hid them in places that were significant to himself such as Hogwarts. The two that I've come across are destroyed now, but I believe Voldemort wished to create 6, so that there would be 7 parts of his soul. The number has power, and that would appeal to him. I'm still searching for confirmation, for it would be most unwise to be wrong about the exact number. The remaining ones most likely are: The Locket of Salazar Slytherin; The Cup of Helga Hufflepuff both of which were stolen by him. Some possession of Rowena Ravenclaw as I think he was taken in by the poetry of causing the Hogwarts' founders objects to become that which prolonged his own life. I would suspect something of Godric Gryffindor's, but his only legacy besides Hogwarts itself - is his sword, which has not been corrupted. Nagini, his snake familiar, it seldom leaves his side and is far too intelligent - it would fit that upon his revival he would wish to complete his collection as soon as possible. And finally, Harry Potter."

"That would make 7 Horcruxes."

"Yes, I believe that Harry was made one by accident. Voldemort places great significance on the objects of his immortality. A cold-blooded murder must accompany the creation of such a thing, and I think the killing of the one prophesied to be his equal would appeal to his sense of pride. I believe he had done the preparation before his fortunate accident, and the result was that young Harry became a receptacle of his soul. His connection to Voldemort is too strong, but neither of them seems to realize the significance. I myself was unaware of the nature of their bond until a year ago."

"So Harry must die?" Inside Archer's mind there flashed an image of a man gazing contentedly up at the stars. There was a sense that this man had killed in order to save more. Archer had found out just how fake his dream was only after he'd dedicated his life to it. Then the thought was gone.

"I see no other way. If he's killed at the hand of Voldemort, then the bond the two of them share after the Dark Lord's revival should tether Harry to this plane as well. He would not truly pass on."

"Is that your best plan? Having him be killed in the hopes that it doesn't take?"

"Destroying a Horcrux is supremely difficult. To unmake one without harming it's container...impossible."

"I may have a way. I'll save him!" Hope bloomed inside the red-clad Servant's mind. With it came an image of the same man from before. He wore a smile, a smile so brilliant and full of joy that Dumbledore knew how important the memory of it was to Archer.

"Will you stake untold lives on a 'may'?"

"Then it's a good thing we have spares to practice with. You say one of them is probably hidden in Hogwarts itself?"


	3. Chapter 3

Archer looked across the school grounds at his blue-clad opponent. No human moved like that, he must be another Servant. If the blood-red spear that he gripped was any indication, he was Lancer. Unlimited Blade Works analyzed and stored his adversary's Noble Phantasm as soon as Archer laid eyes on it. It was a disgusting and cursed spear. Gae Bolg - Archer knew enough about history that he could surmise that the wielder of such a weapon must be Cu Chulainn. The dual-sword wielding Servant was playing a dangerous game. His reflexes were superhuman, but not on the level of a Demigod like the Hound of Culann. Kanshou and Bakuya felt right in his hands. The two blades had become his favorite weapons to Trace. They were crafted without vanity, and therefore lacked the spirit found in other weapons. This lack of aggressiveness made using the pair of them a natural fit to his fighting style that had taken untold years to develop.

In life and in death, Archer had constantly been pitted against opponents that were both stronger and faster than he was. The only way to beat such an adversary was to be able to predict what moves they would use. As a Servant, this ability had been classified as Eye of the Mind(True): Rank B. It was a reflection of the overwhelming amount of combat experience he'd accumulated over the course of his life. His fighting style was a direct result of this skill. Lancer's strikes were too fast for even his class's enhanced eyesight to follow. The only way to avoid them was to know his opponent's precise timing. This in turn was only possible by raising an impenetrable guard in some areas, at the expense of purposely leaving holes in others. Any skilled fighter - which seemed to be the only ones Archer ever encountered - would immediately take advantage of such a weakness. Thus Archer knew exactly where and when in his guard or blind spots that a strike would come from. It was a style that walked a razor's edge. If his predictions or timing were off by even a millisecond, not only would he be struck - the blow was certain to be lethal.

Thanks to his newly acquired knowledge of Gae Bolg, Archer knew exactly how deadly of a trump card his opponent possessed. The red lance could reverse causality. When it's power was invoked by saying it's name, cause followed effect. Because his opponent's heart was pierced, Gae Bolg must have struck. If he was within range, there was no force that he could call upon that could save his life. All barriers, spells, and dodging would fail, because the truth was that his heart had been impaled. It was possible to avoid having your heart skewered, IF you were extremely lucky. No luck could prevent the cursed lance's blow from landing true though. A pierced heart might be avoided, but not a pierced chest. All Servants possessed supernatural resilience, he could probably continue on for a surprising amount of time without his blood pumping, but that's where the lance's passive ability came into play. All wounds inflicted by Gae Bolg wouldn't heal naturally. They would resist all but the most potent of healing magics too.

Lancer's attacks left no opening for an effective counter. A weak parry wouldn't sufficiently change Gae Bolg's trajectory. A strong parry would leave him open for longer then it took Lancer to strike again. Gaining range wasn't working. Closing in wasn't working. The reach he had with his 2 meter weapon was too versatile to overcome. Lancer wasn't taking advantage of the weak grip he'd presented to him. If he'd just direct a blow towards one of his swords, the momentum of the fight would change in an instant. Archer had unlimited blades at his disposal. It was why he used a two sword style. Any weapon that he lost due to being sundered or disarmed, he'd replace in a heartbeat. It would cost the attacker more time than it cost him. Lancer wasn't taking the fight seriously though. The blue-clad Servant seemed to want to enjoy himself. Disarming his opponent might grant him victory, but Lancer didn't want to win, he wanted to fight. Archer poured more and more prana into reinforcement. His body was approaching it's limit, and this was only the first battle. "Archer!" From the side, he could hear his Master call his name. What a petulant girl.

Harry yawned.

Rin was a skilled magus, and her family..of...something. Harry rubbed his eyes as the morning sun spilled into his room in the Burrow. There was something about a girl? Her magic...and jewels? The dream slipped from Harry's mind. He'd had them every night. It wasn't the same feeling as the visions from Voldemort. Somehow, he felt the thoughts and emotions of Archer, but they weren't inhuman like those of the Dark Lord. The dreams themselves had become remarkably dull as of late. For the first week, they'd been Archer fighting wizards who didn't use wands, vampires, and other monstrosities. The fights had been chaotic and hard to follow. One had bled into another. Then a continuing narrative had started. Archer had been summoned by Rin, just as he had been with Harry. Only Rin was trying to summon a Heroic Spirit to be her Servant on purpose. They talked about other Masters and a war. Was it a Wizarding War like the one Voldemort started? Archer and Rin spoke that strange language the Servant had first used when Harry had summoned him. Harry could somehow get the gist of what Archer said, and so he was able to infer what was happening in the dreams despite not knowing what anyone else way saying.

Tonight had been the first night that there had been any action. These dreams up to now had consisted of Archer following Rin to school (somehow without attracting attention), and living with her while she prepared for the war to start. Their visit to a priest clad in black was the most interesting thing to have happened. Most of the time, Archer made snarky comments about Rin's activities. There was a sense of...something that Archer wanted, but Harry could only get a feel for the situation. Archer told Rin he'd lost his memories, but Harry got the distinct sense that wasn't true.

"What're you doing up so early mate?" Ron grumbled from under his covers. The youngest male Weasley was not a morning person.

"I just had another dream. This time Archer was fighting someone called Lancer."

"I'm starting to get worried about those dreams, maybe Hermione is right."

"Dumbledore said it wasn't something I should worry about."

"Well, just 'cause you shouldn't worry about it doesn't mean you should just accept it. I mean, Dumbledore's not the best judge of character is he? That Archer fellow might be another Death Eater on some convoluted scheme of You-Know-Who."

"If he was, why didn't he attack me when we were alone?"

"Why didn't Barty Crouch remove the port-key on the tri-wizard cup before putting his own on it? Dark wizards are nutters. If Archer is our Defense professor, then you know something's up. Every one of them has tried to kill you!"

"Lupin didn't."

"Ok, ok, Lupin WAS a great teacher. He still almost killed you on accident."

Harry tried to think of a comeback, but all he could manage was "Well, no one could be as bad as Umbridge."

"You need to talk to McGonagall or Dumbledore after the feast today. Wait...Blimey! I have to finish packing! Dad said the Ministry cars were getting here early!" In a panic, Ron jumped out of bed and began frantically searching through the clutter in his room.

Harry took the opportunity to head downstairs to the kitchen. Ms. Weasley was humming as eggs cracked themselves open and into a frying pan. "Ah Harry, I'm glad you're up. The Ministry's cars will be here in about an hour. Eat breakfast and then let's get your things downstairs and ready to go." A flick of her wand sent eggs flying from the pan onto a plate in mid-air. They were joined by some rashers of bacon, and toast covered with apricot jelly.

Harry's stomach growled as he sat down at the table. A knife and fork clattered down along side the plate, and he quickly dug into his homemade breakfast. While he was eating, Hermione came downstairs. "You're awake." She said with a tone of surprise. "From the bustling I heard from Ron's room, I though you and him were still busy packing."

"That boy. If I wasn't so busy cooking, I'd give him a piece of my mind." Ron's mother sighed. Another plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast flew around the kitchen and settled in front of Hermione.

"I'm already packed. I woke up early because I had an interesting dream."

"Another one?! Harry, you have to talk to Dumbledore about them. I'm sure when he told you that they weren't something to worry about that he didn't expect you to have them EVERY night! Honestly!" Hermione had picked up her utensils, but had chosen to lecture Harry rather than to start eating.

"I know. I know. I'll talk to him tonight ok?" Hermione just gave him a quick nod. Her hands and mouth were already busy on the delicious food that had been provided for her.

"You could also talk to McGonagall. I'm going to see her after the feast and give her my essay!"

"The one about Sirius's book?"

"It's amazing. It's a primer for two completely new schools of magic."

"Two? I thought it was just one?"

"One? Didn't you read it?"

"Yeah...but a lot of it went over my head. I mean, I followed Sirius's notes. I thought I'd gotten the basic point of it though. It's just unusual uses of Ancient Runes right?"

"Not exactly." Hermione had stopped eating and had taken a lecturing tone. Harry gave an internal sigh, his friend was about to let loose one of her long explanations. "The runes in the book are slightly different from the ones in Ancient Runes. If the runes in the Ancient Runes books are like an old language, the runes in Sirius's book are like an old magic rote."

"Rote?"

"A system for casting spells. Basically, if you write those runes with 'Prana', then a magical effect takes place."

"'Prana'? And you just have to draw a little symbol for something to happen? That sounds a lot easier than wand work."

"Yes and no. 'Prana' is the term the book uses for magical energy. Different runes require different amounts of prana along their path. The drawing itself is like wand work, you have to draw at relative speeds, and you have to be very precise."

"Then how did I do anything? I sure wasn't pouring prana or whatever into them while I was drawing. I'm also pretty sure I didn't draw them at a certain pace. I didn't even know you were supposed to do that!"

"The illustrations for the runes tell you. It's right there." Hermione had taken out Sirius's book, and was pointing at one of the many pictures of runes in it.

"I don't see anything."

"It's right there to the side. See that horizontal set of lines? That's the stroke order, it says which lines you draw first. It also has a ratio, that's what denotes the relative time and prana that line requires."

"I guess I missed that part."

"It wasn't actually written anywhere. I just inferred it. It must be the standard way these runes are written, so that the information is in a precise and concise form." Harry could hear the praise in her voice that Hermione wanted to lavish on whomever wrote the book.

"Ok, so rune drawing is a very precise and complicated art. I get it. So how did I bumble onto it?"

"That's where the book is so brilliant!" Harry just nodded along with his rabid friend. "The other school of magic is called Formalcraft. It's basically a system of magic that compensates for lack or power and skill by using rituals, sacrifices, and magic circles. I don't know about the rituals and sacrifices bit. The book only talks about magic circles."

"Like the one I drew."

"Exactly! The circles basically are small wards. They keep stuff in or out, and they use ambient magical power to do so. So any wizard can use it, regardless of skill or innate magic capacity. The book has ideas on how to incorporate the magic runes into the circles. The layout of the circle will shape the way that prana gets poured into the runes when the circle activates. So the runes aren't REALLY drawn until then. If the calculations for the circle are correct, then the runes activate automatically!"

"So I did that?"

"No, the circle you drew was just the most basic Formalcraft circle. It shouldn't have done anything. I'm not even sure how you injected magic into it. I'm going to have to ask a professor about that part." Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. "The book doesn't list many circles or runes, just enough to go with it's examples of how to incorporate the two." She let out a loud sigh. "Without any more runes, there's not much to do. I've worked on making circles that combine the runes listed in different combinations, but that's not really a practical application. I mean, what use is tracking someone combined with setting a fire?"

"Not much, unless you want to burn whomever you're looking for."

"Yeah, so I'm hoping that one of the Professors can help me find some more of these types of Ancient Runes. NONE of the books I've read have any."

"What about the person who wrote that book? If he wrote it, he might have written others right?"

"I thought of that, but I couldn't find anything else by 'Kischur Zelretch Schewinorg' in Diagon Alley."

"You think it might be a fake name?"

"A pseudonym? It might, but that doesn't help unless he wrote multiple books under it, or unless I can find out his real name."

"Well, it sounds like fun." 'To you', Harry mentally added. "You should finish your food before it gets cold. Ron'll be done before you at this rate."

Hermione looked down at her recently forgotten breakfast. "Oh! I still have to decide what books I want to read on the way too!"

Harry left the kitchen and went to get his trunk. He was going to put his belongings in the living room before the rush.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Two weeks ago...

Archer had been spending the last few days familiarizing himself with his new home. He might not be the best magus, or have been granted any general knowledge of the world he found himself in, but he was fairly confident he could teach the basics of Defense Against the Dark Arts. There was material that was supposed to be covered on the big tests that the students had to take: O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and he'd make sure he'd go over that. That still left a lot of time, but he had few ideas on stuff he could teach the youngsters. In this world, magic didn't become less effective the more people knew of it. No matter how many people knew 'Stupefy', it's power wouldn't decrease. There were spells that were treasured and not shared, but not because it would weaken the current users. This one simple fact explained a lot of how the world worked. In his world, there weren't really schools for magi, so much as several masters and apprentices sharing resources.

He and Dumbledore had talked quite a bit over the summer. The headmaster had shown him numerous memories that had helped him get a grip on how spell casting worked here. There were no arias for self-hypnosis, each magical effect had it's own incantation that seemed universal, at least in Britain. The Servant surmised that the formal school-system brought about a collective unconscious belief. If every magus KNEW that 'accio' was what you said to summon something, there was no reason you had to convince yourself that you were doing magic. Thus no arias. In his world, the number of lines in a spell's chant was a good estimation of it's raw power. That wasn't the case here. Magic was firmly rooted in the magical population's minds. The level of a spell was solely based on the skill and conviction of it's caster. With the use of magical foci to channel mana, the quality of a person's magical circuits didn't even seem to play a role. Another possibility was that the words they used were special somehow. If they'd been passed down from the Age of the Gods, then each one might contain untold power. It was an interesting theory, but of little practical use. Shirou Emiya had always been an existence that was tied to swords. Using a wand wouldn't change that single inescapable fact. Just as other people couldn't duplicate his Tracing skill, normal magic just didn't fit with either his element or origin.

Archer had tried to show Dumbledore the fight he'd had with Voldemort, but the memories just wouldn't be pulled out with even the Elder Wand. It was probably a result of a Servant's innate resistance to scrying and divination spells. Finally, he'd just had Dumbledore read his mind. He didn't completely trust the old man, but he believed that the two of them shared the same goals. Both of them wanted to stop the war and the killings, but both of them were jaded enough to realize such a thing wouldn't happen without casualties on both sides. Archer was going to try and save everyone. Even though he knew it would be a failure, he'd re-immerse himself in the ideals that had once been the center of his universe.

Dumbledore had also told him where he suspected the other Horcruxes to be hidden. Voldemort was surprisingly sentimental. The objects he'd chosen to place his soul in, and their locations were proof of that. His diary, given to a trusted lieutenant. His family ring, hidden in the shack he grew up in. Dumbledore suspected he'd keep one Horcrux close to himself - that (and a spy's reports) were why he was certain one of them was the Dark Lord's familiar. He'd hide one as much as it was possible, and Dumbledore was confident he was making progress in finding just where that was. The remaining two were probably with other followers of his. Dumbledore strongly suspected Voldemort had hidden one in Hogwarts when he'd come to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts posting. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be a simple way to find it if that was the case. Dumbledore had explored the entire castle multiple times, and had cast the most powerful divinations he knew. Nothing had turned up. Archer had an advantage though. All Servants, being human summons, had souls that the world had deemed 'finished'. Most souls were recycled when they died, but Heroic Spirits were removed from process. As higher-ranked humans, they had the 'privilege' to consume lesser souls. It was a blatantly evil act, and most Servants wouldn't think of doing such a thing. They were the souls of heroes after all. If Archer had been summoned as Caster, or if his talents in life had leaned towards bounded fields or consumption, then he could eat the souls of everything in a rather large area. That would also have let him know the location of every spirit in that space. If Voldemort's secret to immortality really was splitting his essence, Archer could've found them in less than a day. As it was, he could only sense souls within his line of sight. So for the last few days when the only people in the castle were Dumbledore, the caretaker, the groundskeeper, the Potions professor (occasionally), and himself, it was the perfect time to search.

Archer hadn't had any luck. Even becoming etherial to by-pass doors and walls hadn't helped. He was fairly sure he'd covered every location in Hogwarts, but he kept on finding new ones. The castle just wasn't laid out in 3 dimensions. Going North, East, South, then West didn't mean you'd end up in the same room as before. In fact, most of the time you didn't. It was like the whole castle was made up of a multitude of bounded fields. Every time you passed through a doorway, you entered a knew one. Archer suspected that any room could be relocated to any part of the castle. He had a pretty good mental map of the place, but only when he actually went through doors. Walking ethereally through a wall could land him just about anywhere. In short, a Horcrux could very well be hidden inside of Hogwarts, and Archer found it quite believable that Dumbledore could spend decades searching for it to no avail.

With a sigh, Archer began making his way to the staff room. Today was the day that the Heads of House were returning. The other professors would be trickling in throughout the week. There'd be a general meeting then, and a smaller meeting today. Despite not being the head of one of the four houses of Hogwarts, Dumbledore had wanted Archer to attend today's meeting. Archer made his way there, taking a meandering route. He didn't have much hope to find the Horcrux before his ability to sense souls became moot. EMIYA hadn't had much luck in life, and as a Servant he could see how the world had categorized him. Archer's luck was an 'E', the lowest a stat could be. A 'C' could've found the Horcrux in the time he'd been searching. A 'B' could've found it without turning etherial. An 'A' would've found it on the first day without even looking for it. Still, there was time left. No matter how quickly he found the one in Hogwarts, if it existed, it was but one of many.

Archer arrived at the door and knocked. "Come in, come in." Dumbledore's voice sounded from the staff room. Archer entered and saw Dumbledore with Severus Snape and an older and distinguished looking woman. "Ah Professor Archer, I'd like you to meet Minerva McGonagall. She's our Professor of Transfiguration, the Head of Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress and a member of the Order of the Phoenix." When McGonagall didn't show any shock at being introduced in such a fashion, Archer assumed Dumbledore had already told her about why he was there.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor McGonagall." Archer said with a crooked smile and short bow with his arm across his chest. He had heard about all the teachers at the school, and the respected...most of them. He just couldn't keep his smirk from his face. Archer was quite frankly in too good of mood not to be his sarcastic self. He turned to the vampire looking teacher and repeated his bow. "Professor Snape, you're looking especially gloomy today." The first thought the Servant had upon seeing the Potions Master was 'Greasy Git'. Archer didn't know where it came from, but he'd taken an instant dislike towards the man. It might have been Snape's attitude at someone who'd 'stolen' his job. It might have been because their personalties were a bit too similar. It might have been an influence from his Master. After all, Archer had been in this world for far longer than an average summons. In any case, he just couldn't help needling his new colleague.

Snape responded with a sneer and a cold gaze. "Professor Archer." Dumbledore had told him that the Potions Professor had long sought the Defense position, even knowing full well it was jinxed. Dumbledore hadn't wanted to give it to such a skilled teacher, but had been about to this year. Snape had a certain amount of animosity at the person who'd taken his wanted position to go along with his usual distain of other people.

Archer walked to a plush chair, and lounged back in it. He crossed his feet on the table in front of him. If Dumbledore took any notice, it didn't show. "Now, before the other House Heads arrive, I'd like to talk about the security of Hogwarts this year. After the confrontation at the Department of Mysteries last year, Voldemort has grown increasingly bolder. His forces have been bolstered by the prisoners from Azkaban, pure-blood supremacy sympathizers, and wizards and witches under the Imperious Curse. I want everyone, teachers and students alike, to realize the situation we're in. Minister Bones has assigned a number of aurors to Hogsmeade permanently. They are to provide security for the town, to protect the students, and to be backup for us in case Voldemort makes a more open move. As such, I think that we can still allow Hogsmeade trips, but we must be even more cautious. The Dark Lord surely knows of these aurors, and so if he decides to make a move on the town, he is sure to do so with a large force. Hogwarts' wards are strong, but we must stay vigilant during the year. There are ways to subvert or avoid them, and I'm afraid for our students - especially Harry Potter."

"If that boy gets in trouble, it's more likely because he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be." Snape drolled. "If he would stay in his room and not sneak off to places, then the Dark Lord wouldn't have such an easy time."

"Surely you can't lay such responsibility at the feet of Harry, Severus. He may be a bit adventurous, but he's not to blame. You-Know-Who is the enemy." Professor McGonagall spoke up.

"Yes, and every time he runs off on his own without consulting an adult, is one more chance the Dark Lord has to kill the showoff and win the war once and for all!"

"I suppose it's a good thing he never encountered Voldemort during one of his adventures then." Archer had been told about Harry's run-ins with the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters during his school years, and felt like antagonizing the potion master. "Imagine what would happen if the boy was trapped with him in a room with no adults around."

"It was the glory-hound's presence that allowed the Dark Lord to be reborn!"

"Forgive me if I'm off, but wasn't that the year a Death Eater fooled the entire teaching staff? I know you must hold the Boy-Who-Lives in high regard Professor Snape, but to expect him to see through a ruse that even you couldn't - isn't that a bit much?"

"Oh yes, because it was essential that he win that foolish tournament? Just because he was forced to compete is no excuse. An intelligent and cunning young man would've put forth the barest minimum of effort to count as participating." Snape glared at the newest teacher. "Being the center of attention put not only himself, but the entire student body at risk."

"Now, now, let's not dwell on the past." Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "We have far more pressing issues."

And here he was getting bored with his research into this world and his nightly vigils. A smile came to Archer's face as he leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. Being a teacher might just be fun after all.

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Harry, Hermione, and Ron parted ways once they boarded the Hogwarts Express. His two friends were prefects again this year, and had to spend the trip in the prefects' car or patrolling the hallways. Harry made his way down the corridor towards the back of the train and his customary car. Along the way he saw a familiar ex-auror. Moody leaned against the wall. His good eye darted back and forth - keeping track of passing students. The unmistakable magic eye was still and was pointed off in the distance.

"Mr. Moody! Are you going to be our Defense professor this year too?"

"Harry, I was never your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Mad-Eye's voice came out in a low rumble. "I just have some things to say to Dumbledore."

"If you're not a student or a professor, couldn't you just apparate directly to Hogsmead?"

Moody smirked. "Good question. The answer is 'yes'."

Harry waited for the ex-auror to continue on and explain, but Moody was already muttering to himself under his breath. "I wish it really had been me that turned him into a ferret."

The two of them were making it hard for other students to pass, so Harry gave a little wave and went on his way. The crowd that had gathered around them moved along with The-Boy-Who-Lived. A bit late, Harry noticed that every person following him was a girl, and they were all staring at him with wide-eye adoration. Harry could feel his cheeks starting to burn. He'd been so preoccupied with having summoned Archer and his dreams that he'd forgotten that his name was being brandished as the hero of the wizarding world again. Now that he was no longer The-Boy-Who-Lied, he had the dubious honor of having his celebrity status reinstated. It was always one extreme or the other. He was either a hero or a pariah, couldn't there be some happy middle-ground? What Harry wouldn't give to just be a student like everyone else.

The giggling crowd of girls wasn't showing any indication of leaving him alone, so Harry ducked into the boy's bathroom on his right. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear a chorus of "Awwwwww". Great, now he was trapped by lower-year girls. He'd faced Voldemort for Merlin's sake! He should be able to stand up to some giggling. Harry rationalized his decision by thinking that the girls would follow him to whatever compartment he went to and possibly annoy his friends. Yeah, that's right. No need to involve anyone else. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, then there was a knock on the door followed by more high-pitched giggling. "Harry? Are you all right? Do you need any...help?" Oh no, oh no. No way they'd come inside. It was the BOY's bathroom for crying out loud.

The doorknob began to turn. With reflexes that would make a professional seeker proud, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and covered himself just as the door swung backwards. A younger girl with curly black hair and an aura of extreme boldness poked her head into the room. Behind her the giggling continued. Romilda Vane bent down and looked under the stall doors. Harry was glad she didn't move to the end of the aisle. The bathroom wasn't exactly spacious, and he'd have a hard time avoiding her. "He's so shy." She said with a wistful look on her face. Romilda turned to her fellow 4th years. "He's somewhere on the train. Let's find him!" The underclassmen departed in what Harry could only think of as a swarm.

They'd get tired of checking the compartments for him soon he hoped. Until then, it's be better to avoid the back of the train that they'd set off down. Harry figured when they came back this way, he'd be free to find his friends in a compartment. Looking around, the most interesting thing was Mad-Eye. Harry made his way back to him. Beside the alert auror, Harry cleared his throat. Moody's magic eye swung around and at the same time he whipped out his wand. Upon seeing the invisible Harry, he just grunted. His eye went back to whatever it was he was looking at, and his wand disappeared up his sleeve.

"What do you want Harry?" Moody grumbled.

"I'm just curious as to what you're doing."

"Heh. So you put on your cloak to get the drop on old Mad-Eye? You know that wouldn't work." Moody's regular eye narrowed.

"I'm trying to avoid that group of girls. I really wish I could just be a normal wizard."

"Ain't no such thing. All wizards are a bit eccentric. Even you."

"What? I'm the normal one. Girls who enter the boy's room, or follow you around - they're the strange ones."

"Oh? Sounds like a pretty common teenage girl's activities to me." Moody's electric blue eye swung towards him for a moment, and the older wizard winked with his other one. "Face it kid, there's nothing you can do about how other people think of you. They can call you a war hero one day, and an insane threat to the people around you the next. My advice? Only give weight to the opinions of people YOU care about."

"Well, I care about a lot of people..."

"The next time you get flustered about people putting you on a pedestal or pulling you through the mud, just think about your mates. People like Dumbledore will always care for you the same, no matter what the 4th year Gryffindors think."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Harry wondered what it would've been like to have the real Alastor Moody as his Defense Professor. There was a side of him that Barty Crouch hadn't been able to mimic.

"Of course I am."

"So why are you here anyways."

"Just following a lead. Gotta keep my eye on a weasel, and let Dumbledore know what's going on at his school. Knowing him, he won't do anything about it, but he needs to hear it anyways."

"And that lead is...?"

"None of your business. You've got enough on your plate from what I hear. Focus on your studies."

Harry sighed. Of all the people, he though Mad-Eye would treat him like an adult. His studies weren't going to do him any good. He couldn't become an auror no matter what he did, so what was the point? Harry slumped against the wall, feeling pretty glum. After 15 minutes had passed, the group of Gryffindor girls passed by. They were chattering excitedly, and seemed to be plotting to search the compartments on the front of the train. Where were the patrolling prefects when you needed them? Harry moved back down the corridor. His face lit up when he saw a compartment with Neville and Luna in it. He hadn't seen his friends since the Department of Mysteries battle. Harry wanted to talk to them and find out how their summer had gone.

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1 day ago...

Archer stood upon Big Ben. It was comforting that so many things were the same here and with the world of his origin. Sure, the Mage's Association didn't have it's headquarters underneath the famous landmark, but the clock tower looked the same as he remembered it. It was a dreary night, and a storm raged above London. Archer stood rigid upon the giant clock as his gaze moved across the city. His arms were crossed, and if it wasn't for his cloak being blown by the wind, it would've been easy to mistake him for a statue. The rain didn't hinder him, it didn't even touch him. Archer's cloak was a gift from a certain curry-loving member of the clergy of his original world. It was a first grade Conceptual Weapon. In other words, it affected 'concepts'. It was an invaluable type of equipment that allowed their users to damage things that would otherwise be immune to conventional weapons and magecraft. The red mantle he wore protected him from the 'external world' rather than enemies. He might be a Heroic Spirit, but his body was alive. Just because he could endure being cold and soaked, didn't mean he'd like it. His crimson cloak made the rain a non-factor. Once again he gave his thanks to Ciel. She had been a good friend for a short time.

Archer's Clairvoyance was rank C. It was an essential skill for the Archer Class. It improved his eye-sight to a degree unmatched by even the most advanced technology. Every single drop of water stood out clearly to him. Archer could read the expressions on the faces of people on the far side of the city. Simply looking from a high location made it possible to fully survey a town and search for enemies. Clairvoyance also improved his aim, but EMIYA had always been a near-perfect shot in life. Swooping above London, Archer could see monsters under the command of Voldemort. The cloaked figures were a good 10 feet tall. He could make out their greyed and decaying flesh, even though they were still several kilometers away. The Dementors swooped close to the rooftops. Below them, the few people out on such a night cowered from their unseen presence. The monsters paid them no mind. They weren't attacking people at random. They weren't making their way to a certain location. They were searching for him.

A smirk came to the Servant's face. There was no moral decision here. When the Death Eaters had appeared in Diagon Alley, obviously looking to kill, abduct, torture, or forcefully recruit new followers, Archer had been conflicted. He could kill them, or he could just as easily maim them. They might be mages, but their personal warding was pathetically weak. Their physical capacity even worse. It would've been a simple matter to wound them non-fatally in a way that would put them out of the war permanently. A Counter-Guardian would kill them without a second thought and then proceed to track where they came from. Their family and friends would die too. A Counter-Guardian would have already tracked down all the known and suspected Death Eaters and slain them without mercy. The wizarding world of England might never recover, but it would be better than the collateral damage that having the Counter Force's Champion lose would inflict. A Hero of Justice wouldn't kill them. No matter what they did later. No matter whom else died because these foes were shown mercy. In the black and white world of a Superhero, killing was always wrong. Finally, there was the Path of the Asura - the path walked by EMIYA's adopted father. Kill 1 to save 10. Kill 10 to save 100. Kill 100 to save 1000. It was a simple formula to balance lives on. Archer had often wondered what his life would've been like if he knew what Kiritsugu's ideals had really been like. Saying he would 'Save everyone!' was a slap in the face of his adopted father's past. It was the dream of a young child, nothing more. Archer had made his decision when he'd first arrived. He saved one innocent witch, at the cost of at least 5 lives. He regretted it, but he'd do it again without hesitation. That was the path he would walk, and woe be it to the Death Eaters that stumbled upon him. The flying cloaked figures were different though. These were monsters, in every sense of the word. They could be slain without any debate or inner turmoil. Trace on.

"I am the bone of my sword."

Archer projected his signature matte black straight bow. Despite his original nationality, the Servant used Western-style archery. It was a purely pragmatic choice. The arrows Archer used put an incredible strain on his weapon. No normal bow would be able to hold up, even with reinforcement. In his other hand, Archer traced a sword. Harpe was a divine weapon wielded by Perseus to kill the Gorgon Medusa. It was an odd-shaped sword, with an exceedingly long handle and a blade that turned to the side. One could even say it looked more like a farming implement than a weapon. As an Anti-Monster Holy Sword it was already perfectly suited to dealing with the Dark creatures Voldemort was employing. Harpe was a conceptual weapon though. It's divine ability was to nullify the 'undying attribute' of immortals, and to inflict wounds that could not be restored by any method other than healing in accordance with the natural laws. Dementors were supposedly incapable of being killed. Archer was going to prove that assumption wrong.

On the 4th step of the Tracing process: Imitating the skill of its making, Archer altered Harpe. It was no longer a sword, but an arrow. All of it's other traits remained the same, from it's initial concept, to it's composition and experience of accumulated years. Archer now had a arrow appropriate for his bow. As he notched Harpe, the arrow vibrated and shown with a golden light - eager to fulfill it's purpose. The beam that lanced out of his bow struck the first Dementor in it's chest. The cloaked creature let out a raspy shriek as the golden radiance disintegrated it. Another Harpe was made into an arrow, and another Dementor was removed from existence. Nine Dementors and nine arrows. None of the Dark creatures would return to their Lord. Archer's eyes scanned the magical sections of London. He could see a few people pointing towards the clock tower. Unlike the methods he'd used for dealing with the Death Eaters, this display had attracted attention. It was a shame, he liked this perch for sentimental reasons if nothing else. It was also only 3 kilometers from Charing Cross Road, which put the entirety of Diagon Alley well within his range. Dumbldore would have to make him another portkey to another suitable location.

He'd stay for a while yet. The night was young, and the Dementors could've been the first wave of a larger force. Silently he thanked Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes was as corrupt as the world he'd been summoned into, but it was thanks to his 'Gate of Babylon' that Archer had knowledge of Harpe. It was solely because of Gilgamesh that Unlimited Blade Works possessed the vast quantity and quality of swords that it did. He was also thankful of Hogwarts. Projecting so many Holy Phantasms was a strain under the best of times. Using a Legendary blade as a one-shot arrow wasn't the most efficient magecraft. The ancient castle was doing a remarkable job of not only giving him a stabling presence, but providing him prana. It really was similar to how the Holy Grail would normally support a Servant. He still had a weak stream of od coming from his adolescent Master, but Hogwarts was easily providing him 10 times the amount of power that Harry Potter did. The main limitation seemed to be how much od Archer's magical circuits were capable of containing.

Archer's stayed long into the night. Tomorrow was the first day of classes, and his schedule might prevent him from maintaining his normal nightly vigil. He found himself looking forward to teaching the young students. He'd always tried saving people the only way he knew how, with a sword. Teaching children to defend themselves had a strange attraction to the former 'Ally of Justice'. It might just prove to be more fulfilling than he dared hope.


	4. Chapter 4

Outside the Hogwarts Express, Harry met up with Ron and Hermione.

"Being a prefect is horrible." Ron complained. "You have to sit in the same car as all the other ones. Thankfully, no one's as big of a prick as Percy, but still. You don't get to nap because every hour you have to walk the corridors."

"That's to make sure that a pair of prefects is always on patrol." Hermione started a lecture, that Ron had apparently heard multiple times already if the look on his face was any indication. "We have to be with the other prefects so we can work together. If something happened, then we'd have to provide assistance or patrol in their place." Hermione was turned towards Harry, so she missed Ron making a mouth with his hands and repeatedly opening and closing it.

"Just be happy you aren't one mate. Can you imagine what would happen if the Chosen-One walked down the hallway every hour?"

Harry shuddered. He could well imagine that. The three of them boarded one of the Thestral-pulled carriages. There was room for another and Harry looked out over the crowd of milling students. He spotted Ginny's long red hair. He was about to call out to her, but stopped when he saw Dean Thomas walking beside her, holding her hand. Harry felt a sudden surge of jealousy. He'd gotten to spend so much time with Ginny over the Summer, that he'd forgotten she now had a boyfriend. Her crush on him was well in the past. Harry was lost in his own thoughts as they approached the Great Hall. Inside they seated themselves at their House's table and waited for the 1st years to finish their boat trip and to be brought in for the sorting ceremony.

At the head table, seated next to Hagrid, was someone that made Harry do a double-take. White, spiky hair that was swept back over his head. A tanned face with a constant smirk on it. Long red sleeves covered black armor. Harry didn't know if it was the bottom of a robe with the front open, or if it was a really flared set of coat-tails, but the red cloth matched Archer's arms. The entire Gryffindor table was discussing the newest addition to the Hogwarts' teaching staff.

"Is that the new Defense Professor?"

"It has to be."

"Look at his hair. I wonder how old he is."

"Forget his hair, look at that robe! That's the most bad-ass thing I've ever seen."

"He's wearing red, do you think he was a Gryffindor?"

"He doesn't look very old. I think he's the youngest teacher we've had."

"Where can I get a robe like that?"

"Are those boots?"

"Hey, isn't that the guy who saved Minister Bones?" Ron joined in on the general clamor of the Gryffindor table.

"I think he is." Harry replied.

"He's the one who fought You-Know-Who?"

"I thought only Dumbledore could stand up to him."

"I heard that You-Know-Who was going to kill Ms. Bones because she was up for Minister for Magic, and he didn't want anyone competent in charge."

"How's he still alive?"

"Do you think he's the real deal? I'd hate to be stuck with another Lockhart."

"I heard the Ministry has been looking for him, so they can recruit him."

"A Defense Professor that can stand up to You-Know-Who, do you think we might LEARN something in Defense this year?"

"Isn't it a waste to kill someone like him off after a year."

"Not all Defense Professors die. In fact, I kinda wish more of them did."

"That's a horrible thing to say!"

"You never had detention with Umbridge."

The flow of the conversation seemed to be leading off into irrelevant tangents. Harry kept looking at Archer. He said he was his Servant. What did that mean? What did the dreams he had mean? Was Archer reading his mind? Was he reading Archer's? Was he a Dark Wizard, and the link something to do with Voldemort. Harry's head spun. He didn't know what to make of things. The sorting hat sung a song. The first years were applauded as they went to their Houses, then the feast began. Harry ate like he'd been confounded. He didn't pay attention to his friends or the food in front of him What were the dreams? What details could he remember? There had a be a clue there. Once everyone was done eating, the students began to make their way towards their dorm rooms. Harry held back so he could walk with Ron and Hermione who had to help lead the first-years.

Archer stood up, and turned...transparent? Harry hadn't seen a wand, or the new Defense Professor don a cloak. A few students around him gasped. As Harry glanced over, he could see them looking at where Archer had been standing. That was odd, because Archer was now walking through the Head Table towards the door. Wait. Through? The white-haired man saw Harry looking at him and winked as he continued walking inside the Hufflepuff table, and through the doors at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Did you see that? He apparated!" One of the first years exclaimed.

"You can't apparate inside of Hogwarts." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all replied in unison. Harry's friends were looking at where Archer had been too. Harry was the only one who'd followed his movement.

"Besides, if he apparated, there would've been a cracking sound." Hermione put a finger to her lips and looked up in thought. "A wandless and silent invisibility spell? I guess if he survived against Voldemort..." All the first years flinched. "He must be powerful."

"I. I have to talk to Dumbledore." Harry was unnerved. He shared a meaningful look with Ron and Hermione. It was time to be filled in on what was going on.

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"Redvines."

The gargoyle stepped to the side to make way for Harry. He fidgeted nervously on the way up the rotating staircase. Dumbledore had simply smiled at him, told him the password for this study, and that he could come by this evening. Unpacking had calmed his nerves somewhat. Being back in the Gryffindor tower made him feel at home. Not the same way as the Burrow. Hogwarts didn't feel like having a family, but the ancient castle still seemed to embrace him.

Walking up the stairs he could hear voices coming from Dumbledore's office.

"I'm tellin' ya, he's got the Mark!"

"I believe you Alastor, but he's just a boy."

"That BOY is planning something bad, you mark my words. You have to stay vigilant."

"I will. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another guest. Please let me know as soon as you find out anything about the other matter."

Harry knocked on the Headmaster's office door, and was immediately greeted with a "Come in." Dumbledore's office was the same as Harry remembered it. The strange silver instruments were strewn about the room. Their ticking and occasional small puffs of smoke created a hectic atmosphere, that somehow fit the calm Dumbledore perfectly. The Headmaster's blue eyes gazed over his glasses. "I feel that it will be better for you to talk things over with Professor Archer, but you seem agitated. What can I do to ease your mind my boy?"

"Is it a good idea to have Archer be the Defense Professor? There's something strange about him."

"We all have our own individual quirks, though I'll grant you Archer seems a bit more unique than most."

"I know you said not to worry, but I've been having dreams every night."

"Dreams? What sort of dreams?"

"They've all been about Archer. I think they might be memories, or visions or something. I don't think he's spending his nights in a Japanese highschool, so they probably aren't his current activities."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I am quite certain he hasn't been doing that at night. In fact, there are several reliable accounts for his whereabouts during the summer."

"Then why am I having the dreams? I tried Occlumency, or forcing them out with emotion, and nothing works."

"From what I understand, the bond the two of you share is very strong. I wasn't aware of the strength of the mental link, but I can say this: Archer means to help you defeat Voldemort."

Harry thought about the prophecy. It was frightening to think that HE was the one that would have to stand up to the Dark Lord. Part of Harry wouldn't have had it any other way, but another part was frighted at the prospect. "So I have to do it?"

"I'm afraid that's quite likely. Archer is your Servant through a magic that is so deep and powerful it surprises even me. I think that he may wind up helping you more than you realize."

"What do you mean he's my Servant? He called me Master when he arrived too." Harry could only think of one type of similar magic, that which bound House Elves. Harry wouldn't wish that on anyone, not after getting to know Dobby and seeing the actions such magic made the enthusiastic elf do. "It's not something that will hurt him will it?"

"I don't think you have much to fear in that respect. Archer is the person to ask about such things though. He's the only one who can truly answer your questions." Harry sighed. "If I'm not mistaken, 6th years have Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday mornings, so you'll be able to talk to him soon."

"Thank you Headmaster." Harry smiled with relief. Dumbledore's assurances made him feel somewhat calmer. He would just have to ask Professor Archer directly.

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After getting their class schedules at breakfast, Harry and Ron went back to the Gryffindor common room to enjoy their free period. Breakfast had everyone wondering what the latest Defense teacher would be like. Bets were ranging from him being another Lockhart, to him being another Mad-Eye. As 6th years, they had the dubious honor of finding out first hand. Hermione had Ancient Runes before Defense, which she was inordinately excited about. Harry wasn't surprised. With the amount of reading she'd done on the subject, anyone else would've burned out long ago. Hermione wasn't like that. Her impulse to study seemed to feed upon itself.

The trio met up in the hallway leading towards the Defense classroom. Hermione had a gleam in her eye. "Professor Babbling said she was intrigued by my paper. She's going to read it first, but she agrees that it's an excellent extra-credit topic!"

"Didn't you say you were going to give your paper on Sirius's book to McGonagall?" Harry distinctly remembered her saying that.

"Oh, I'm going to do that too of course! I made 5 copies. One for Professor Babbling, one for Professor McGonagall, one for Headmaster Dumbledore, one to keep for myself, and one just in case." Ron stared at her blankly. "It wouldn't do to have them all share would it? Babbling said she'd look for runes that were similar to the ones mentioned in the book. If we can find their origin, we might be able to research new ones!" Hermione was clearly excited about the prospect of more research.

"Yeah, 'cause that's important with You-Know-Who running around." Ron said while rolling his eyes.

"It might just be!" Hermione raised her nose, made a dismissive noise, and walked through the Defense room's door. Inside the classroom there were a few students already in place. Hermione pulled Harry and Ron to the front of the class so they could get what she considered the best seats. Leaning back in the teacher's chair was a transparent Archer, but once again Harry was the only one to notice him.

"He's sitting right in front of us!" He whispered to his friends. "He has his legs propped up, his arms crossed over his chest, and he's looking right at me!"

"Do you think wearing that cloak all the time did something to your eyes?" Ron's brow was creased in thought.

"I've never read about an effect like that, but what if it's true? Imagine the possibilities!" Hermione's eyes sparkled at the thought of MORE research to do.

"It could be something to do with my dreams. Dumbledore said I have a mental link with Archer."

"So he might not even be there?"

"There's one way to check." Harry took out the Marauder's Map and held it under the desk. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." As ink flowed throughout the formerly blank parchment, Harry could see a dot and his name. Beside him were dots with 'Hermione Granger' and 'Ronald Weasley'. At the front of the class, there was a dot with 'Archer' next to it.

"I guess he is there. Still seeing though invisibility is pretty cool right?"

"I dunno Ron, I can't see though the cloak if someone else is wearing it. I think it still has to do with the mental link."

Hermione was looking at the map. "So do you think 'Archer' is his first or last name? The map usually shows both, so does that mean he only has one?"

"Huh, you're right."

Any further conversation was cut off when Archer suddenly materialized. With a quick 'Mischief Managed', Harry put the map away. The rest of the class looked suitably surprised at their teacher's sudden appearance, but a loud "Quiet down." got their attention.

"Now, I'm Professor Archer, and I'm going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Your lessons will have 3 parts. First, you'll have to study the Ministry mandated materials. Since I don't plan on assigning any homework or giving tests..." Hermione was taken aback, everyone else was immensely pleased. "you'll have to give a presentation in class. Some of the required lessons will actually be very helpful to you, so I suggest you take the time to learn them right. The next aspect will be practical casting. Everyone in this class will be dueling each other. The best way to survive a fight is to train, and that's what we'll do. You don't have to participate if you don't want to, but you'll get as much out as you put in. The final and primary activity we're going to do is learn some new basic techniques. I'd be very surprised if any of you have any experience with what I'm going to show you."

The class looked around with excitement. Harry wondered what Archer meant by new basic techniques.

"Now, the first thing you're going to do is learn how to circulate your od." Hermione let out a small gasp at the term. "It's a lot like meditation, and quite frankly it can be either the simplest thing you've ever done, or practically impossible. It's different for every person, so if you can't get it - curse the star you were born under. Ms. Granger correct? You have a question?"

Hermione was waving her hand in the air, and judging by the look on her face she had in fact several questions. "What's od, and why do we want to circulate it?"

"Od is magical power, and you want to because it's the most basic thing you can do. Basics are essential." The class looked rather crest-fallen at their teacher's explanation. "Tell you what, I'll give you a demonstration. Who here can cast a stunning spell?" The students who'd been in Dumbledore's Army last year all raised their hands. "Good, that's one lesson we won't have to go over much. You may not be completely helpless. Who has the strongest?" In the back of the room Draco kept his hand raised, while most of the other students pointed at Harry. Harry had lowered his arm, but Archer seemed to take the majority of the class's recommendation. "All right, Potter and Malfoy, come to the front." Harry and Draco moved to opposite sides of the front of the room. The Malfoy heir had an arrogant smirk on his face that Harry wanted to wipe off. If they were going to duel, then he'd get his chance.

"Now, both of you try to stun me." The class broke into an uproar. "Geez, shut up will ya? It's faster to show than explain."

"Professor, you don't have your wand out. How are you going to deflect our attacks?" Harry asked.

"Who said I was going to deflect them? Just cast already."

"Stupefy!" Harry was hesitating, but Draco didn't. The ret jet of light exploded against Archer with seemingly no effect.

"Heh, attacking from behind? Good. Now do it again!"

"Stupefy!" This time Harry and Draco both cast a stunner. Harry's flew at his target's chest, while Draco had decided the black body armor was the reason his first spell failed. Draco's stunner was aimed at his teacher's head, but once again the spells collided with new Defense professor with no effect. Draco had a look of annoyance on his face, while the rest of the class's mouths were hanging open.

"Now you'll probably never be a resistant to magic as I am, but circulating your od flushes outside magic out of your system. I'm sure all of you can see the potential benefits of something like that?" There were some nods amongst the class. "Good. Now before you all go and get big heads - this technique won't save you from non-magical effects. If someone conjures a cannonball above your head, circulating your od won't do a thing. Also, weaker spells are easier to remove. I doubt you'll be able to handle stunners at your age, but you might have some success against lower level curses and jinxes."

Hermione was furiously scribbling notes. The sound of her quill on the parchment was the only noise in the classroom.

"Potter, Malfoy, return to your seats. Now, everyone close your eyes and try and picture a trigger of some kind. It should have significance to you. Also try and focus on how if feels when you cast a spell. That may let you grasp how things are supposed to feel. Sit however you feel the most comfortable. In your chair, on the floor, on your desk, I don't care. Focus on the trigger, and when it flips: imagine the feeling you get when you cast a spell coursing through your body."

Harry remained at his desk and closed his eyes. Picture a trigger? For some reason, the image of a gun's hammer firing came to mind. It felt...natural, but foreign at the same time. Still he embraced it. The most powerful spell he knew was the Patronus, so he concentrated on how it felt to cast that spell. The hammer crashed down, and he imagined moving his wand. Nothing happened. With no further instructions from their teacher, Harry pictured the hammer again and tried over and over. There was silence for 10 minutes before Archer said "Very good Granger, we might have a prodigy. How do you feel? No pain? Everything good? You can keep on practicing, or you can leave if you'd like."

"We can leave if we're finished?" Ron perked up at the news. Harry had opened his eyes. Hermione's cheeks were flushed, but she made no move to leave. She just closed her eyes and began to take deep breaths. Ron's ears were turning red. Leaving early was a good incentive for his friend.

Harry closed his eyes, and focused on the gun's hammer again. "Good Malfoy. You can leave if you want." Harry heard the sound of rustling robes from the back of the class, but kept his eyes closed. "Oh right, house points. 20 to Gryffindor for Granger. 15 to Slytherin for Malfoy. Heh, that is fun." The hammer fell, and suddenly Harry felt a surge of power throughout his body. It was like someone switched on an electric current. It was the feeling of magic, but drawn out and extended. Harry felt hot, like he had a fever. He let the image fade from his mind and the power stopped. His body seemed to be cooling down now that he was finished. "10 points to Gryffindor for Potter. This should be obvious now, but when I call your name you can keep practicing or leave if you want." Harry decided to stay and practice. Since he wanted to talk to Archer after class, he'd have to hang around anyways.

As more and more names were called out, Harry could feel Archer's surprise. He didn't know how he knew the new teacher's feelings, but Harry was certain he was right. Every name was greeted with an outside indifference from Archer, as he indicated the students were free to leave if they wanted. Underneath that there was genuine respect. The words 'I guess this is what comes from trying to activate the circuits of someone that's already used to doing magic.' came to Harry's mind in Archer's voice.

By the time the class ended over half of the students had succeeded in circulating their od. This included every member of Dumbledore's Army. It had taken Ron the longest. In the end he was sweating from the effort. Harry wondered about sweating from just meditating, but considering his temperature spiked every time he pulled the trigger, he wasn't surprised. Everyone else had cleared out, eager to be the first ones to spread the gossip about their newest teacher. The golden trio waited to be alone with Professor Archer. Once the doors had closed behind the last person to leave, Archer turned to them. "So I take it you want to have a heart-to-heart Master? Geez, I already explained it to the old man, now I have to spell things out for my far-too-young Master." With a shrug he stood up, and walked towards the door. "C'mon, I have an office. I suppose I should use it for stuff like this."

At the door to the Defense Professor's office, Archer turned and addressed Harry and his friends. "I don't suppose that telling only you is an option? No, don't bother to answer. I can see you'll just run off and tell them afterwards if I don't. *sigh* C'mon in." The door opened to reveal the most sparse office Harry had ever seen. "Huh, I was expecting at least a desk. I guess I'll have to ask about that. I supposed I might be required to provide my own." A simple wooden desk, with one chair behind it and three in front appeared in the room.

"Wandless and silent conjuring!" Hermione said in a hushed tone.

"Actually it's projection, though I suppose the name is just semantics." Archer walked around the desk and sat down. "Ok Master, what do you want to know?"

"What are you? Where did you come from? Why are you calling me Master?" The Heroic Spirit raised his hand.

"Easy, easy. I'm a Servant, and you're my Master. To elaborate, a Servant is a Heroic Spirit that is placed in a vessel created by the Holy Grail. Typically, one is summoned for magi competing in the Holy Grail War."

"The Holy Grail? Like the one from the King Arthur legend?" Hermione asked.

"You know, that's a good question." Hermione looked at her shoes and blushed. "The one I'm familiar with isn't a cup that received the blood of Christ, but rather a gate to Akasha."

"Really?" Hermione's eyes were almost glowing in anticipation. "The Akashic Record? The storage place of all knowledge in the universe?"

"The what now?" Ron looked lost.

Archer just nodded. "It's good to encounter a mage that's eager for knowledge. In my world, the hunt for the Root of all knowledge is considered the ultimate goal of most mages." Hermione was fidgeting under the compliment. "But, just so you know. Seeking the Root is tantamount to suicide. It has guardians and protections that you are quite literally incapable of understanding. Back to the Holy Grail. It would seem to be different from the one in King Arthur's legend, but the Once and Future King is destined to seek the Grail where ever it shall be. Since the King of Knights did in fact seek the Grail I know of, perhaps they are the same."

"Wait, you've met King Arthur?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Arturia Pendragon was another Servant that I encountered, and an example of what a Heroic Spirit is. They are individuals that were deemed 'complete' due to the lives they lead, and the prowess they possessed. Akasha takes them out the normal cycle of life, so it can preserve them as they represent an ideal soul that others should strive for."

"Arturia?" Ron muttered.

"So you're a Heroic Spirit too? A legendary character?" Of all the ways Harry had envisioned the conversation going, this was not one of them. "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm a nameless hero. I never existed in your world, and even in my own I was unknown. You might call me the 'Embodiment of Justice', though that's a bit presumptuous. In truth, I tried to save people during my lifetime. I suppose I managed to save enough that Alaya - the embodiment of Human unconsciousness" Archer answered the question before Hermione could ask for more details. "That Alaya, accepted me as a Counter Guardian in exchange for the power to stop a calamity." Hermione raised her hand again. "A Counter Guardian is subclass of Heroic Spirits." Hermione's hand slowly lowered.

"So you're a legendary figure, from another world, who was summoned by the Holy Grail to help me win the war?"

"Not quite. I don't think the Holy Grail summoned me, I was above your house when you activated that circle. My best guess is that my summoning by the Holy Grail fundamentally changed my nature, so that you were able to summon me. Perhaps the two of us share some similarities." Archer's gaze darkened with that thought.

"So no war? You just...were summoned by accident?"

"Looks that way. I see this as a pretty good opportunity. I get to save people again, and you get some help against Voldemort."

"What about me being your Master? Isn't that a bit...presumptuous? I mean, I'm still a teenager."

"The Command Crests on your hand are proof that you bear the qualifications of being a Master. Just so you know, with that crest, you can give me 3 absolute orders. If you use all 3 our contract will dissolve, and I'll disappear. So the practical limit of the number of times you can use them is 2."

"A Master can command the Servant to do anything? That's...that's as bad as what wizards do to House Elves!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, Servants tend to be summoned to Masters with which they share some compatibility. So generally, their goals match up. The Command Crests can be used to empower a servant by commanding them to 'fight harder'. They can also bend space by commanding the Servant to 'come forth'. You can even use them to command me to kill myself or someone else." Hermione let out a small gasp. "Just be warned. Trampling on a Servant's pride is a dangerous thing to do. Even the power of the Command Crests isn't enough to pervert the morals of a legendary soul." Archer's eyes narrowed with the implied threat. "The best use of them are the first two examples, but my view point is a bit skewed on that subject."

"If Harry asked you to, you'd die?" Ron asked.

"It has to be a conscious effort to use the Crest. Otherwise, they'd all probably have been used up long ago. I can't really die though. At worst, I go back to Alaya. I wouldn't get to affect this world anymore, but that's about it." Archer gave a shrug like his death wouldn't matter to him in the slightest.

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed while jumping to his feet. "The dreams are about the Holy Grail War aren't they?"

"Dreams? You're having... ah, our mental link must be stronger than I'd though. I see. I can only speculate, but you're probably are seeing events of my past. Hopefully nothing too...graphic."

"So far, it's been you going to school with a girl named 'Rin'." Harry had seen THAT? Archer barely remembered his own childhood. Wait. He didn't look much at all like his younger self. "You did fight with a guy in blue with a red spear."

"You're right, that sounds like the 5th Grail War."

"You were in five wars?"

"I've actually been in far more than five wars, but the 5th Grail War was the 5th time the Holy Grail was fought over in my world. I didn't participate in the first four wars. They were several decades before my time."

"So what are your plans?" Harry was curious as to his new Servant's goals. Archer had told them about the Command Crests, but in the same breath he'd warned them against using them against him. It all could be a lie. If it wasn't, Archer had divulged information that put him in a compromising position.

"Servant's are their Master's sword and shield, so I'm going to protect you and hunt for ways to stop Voldemort. I guess I'll keep on teaching until that happens. At night I plan to be on sentry duty in London, so try not to get yourself in trouble then."

"About your lessons..." Hermione dug around, and pulled out Sirius's book. "Do you recognize this?"

Archer leafed through the text. "Formalcraft is one of the most basic of magics from my world. It's well-known, and thus its power has been decreased. Most magi rely on more powerful mysteries. I don't know much about Runes. My talents are very...specific, and don't mix well with them. I recognize the author. He's a world-famous mage, and not someone you'd want to antagonize. Given HIS power...well, stuff of his could be found in any world theoretically. I'm surprised that he wrote a book, much less that it managed to find its way to my Master. I take it this is how you drew that circle in your room." Harry nodded. "All I can say, is that it's a book written by a mage that is quite possibly the most powerful spellcaster in several worlds. It's value is priceless."

"Oh." Hermione looked torn. On one hand the book she'd been reading WAS just as amazing as she though it was. On the other hand, she wasn't going to find any more works by its author.

"In any case, I'm sure you three are hungry. You should hurry along to the dining hall before lunch is over. Master, I'll think about a way to stop the dreams."

"That's... all right I guess." Harry was more intrigued with what the dreams could show him about Servants in general and Archer in specific. He supposed the Heroic Spirit didn't want someone else viewing his memories... Archer faded into translucency, and moved towards the door. "What's that ability you're using? Is it invisibility? Why can I still see you?"

"Since I'm a spiritual being, I can have my material body become a spiritual one. It's convenient for going un-noticed and expending less Prana. You can see and hear me because of our bond. Other beings with spiritual bodies, like ghosts, can see me too. Oh, and we probably have short-range telepathy." Archer stopped talking. 'So if you want to speak to me in this form without looking insane to people around you, just focus and think.'

Ron and Hermione were looking at Harry with concern. "Archer just told me about his invisibility. I can see him because he's my Servant."

As the trio walked towards the Grand Hall, Hermione was babbling about their newest teacher. "Can you believe it? A legendary soul?! He met King Arthur!"

"Yeah, as enemies." Ron muttering was almost drowned out by his growling stomach.

"He never said that. Though I guess they might have been on opposite sides of the Grail War. That doesn't change the fact that he's going to be teaching us unique magic? Don't you realize what an opportunity this is? I mean, techniques no one has learned before! And he's so...amazing too! An embodiment of justice! It must be why Harry summoned him."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Remember when I told you that you had a 'Saving people thing'? You two are the same!"

"Yeah, if he's not another Lockhart." Ron now had deep scowl on his face.

"He's nothing like Lockhart! He's not a faker! Didn't you see the furniture he made? He didn't use a wand, or say a spell, or even make a motion! That display is something you'd expect of Dumbledore! Think of all he can teach us!"

"Whatever." Ron put his hands in his pockets and bent forwards. Harry wasn't sure why his best friend was suddenly in such a bad mood. Ron didn't even eat lunch with his usual gusto, instead he almost seemed to be... sulking.

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Archer had a problem on his hands. He and Harry were too similar. Harry had good friends, and he didn't seem... distorted like Archer had been. He would value his own life. He also didn't seem to base his ideals on those of someone else. Harry wasn't a Faker like Archer was. Harry probably wouldn't regret his life like the Counter Guardian EMIYA had. EMIYA's regret: Archer had to make sure that grudge didn't infect his Master. If Harry saw his past... His days as Shirou Emiya wouldn't be so bad. Harry may even learn something important about himself. His days as Archer would be a bit... unhelpful. If Harry saw his actions during the 5th Grail War, he'd see his betrayal. That would raise all sorts of unpleasant questions that Archer didn't want to answer.

The thought of Harry seeing EMIYA's work, that was too brutal to wish on anyone. Those dreams could scar Harry for life. If only they didn't share such a strong bond. Rin and him had been close. VERY close, but her world view was fundamentally different from his own. She didn't see his dreams and he didn't see hers. Archer wondered. If he had been sleeping these past few months, would he had seen Harry's past? It was likely. The dreams were a two way street, even if the weight of a Heroic Spirit's soul was heavier. Archer cursed himself. He'd been so busy trying to save people, he'd left his Master by himself. If he had time to prepare, he could've nipped the dreams in the bud right away. Their link was too strong now for even a conscious effort to weaken it to work.

That left his trump card. Unlimited Blade Works would have something to help him. The vast collection of Noble Phantasms had some of the most powerful Conceptual Weapons to ever exist stored within it. This world also didn't seem to hate Paradoxes with the fervor that others did. Archer had noticed that the strain to project and keep his traced weapons around was noticeably reduced - especially in Hogwarts. It was time to peruse the history of his blades. There was something that would work.

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All of his Death Eaters had been extra cautious around him lately. Voldemort was quite aware of their fear. Their war was stymied by one man: Archer. The London Vigilante. At first, the Dark Lord had dismissed the foreign wizard, and had paid the price. He had to admit he hadn't seen someone wielding swords as a threat. In the hands of a wizard, even a muggle weapon was dangerous. The summoning charm was a 4th year spell, but a variation to manipulate a thrown weapon would be a simple thing to create. It was a crude and inelegant style, and it made Voldemort furious that he'd been denied by it. That was before the Dementors. The Dark creature's he'd sent into the central wizarding community in England were destroyed. Such a thing was inconceivable! He was The Dark Lord. Heir to Slytherin! No one alive or dead knew more about the Dark Arts than him, but even he couldn't kill the darkest of creatures.

What few details his minions had gathered from witnesses told him Archer was living up to his name. The wizard was sniping from a long distance away. If his Death Eaters could send in whatever Dark creatures they could manage to control from a safe distance... Yes! All they had to do was to use his attacks to find his hiding place. Bellatrix could then deal with him. An elite group of Death Eaters lead by his most passionate supporter could place wards quickly enough to stop his escape. It would be costly, but no more than the losses that had already been inflicted.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry's dreams had gotten worse. Rather, the events of the 5th Grail War had gotten worse. Archer's fight with Lancer was suddenly stopped when Cu Chulainn retreated. It seemed like a good thing at first, but then Archer and Rin noticed Lancer's new target. It was a tall teenager with red hair. The boy had a head start, but against the agility of the Hound of Culann - it was nothing. They found the bystander dead inside the school. His heart had been pierced. Rin had healed him though. It surprised Harry that she was capable of healing something that might be beyond even Ms. Pomfrey. The only emotion Harry could feel from Archer was...nostalgia? The two of them left in search of the blue-clad Servant, but then Rin seemed to get an idea.

The race across town was exhilarating. Archer couldn't fly, but his jumping seemed more like flight than anything else. They arrived at a large walled estate, with an impressive foreign looking house. There they encountered Saber. It seemed the red-head from the school was a wizard too. He was named Emiya Shirou...or something like that. It was hard to pick up people's names in dreams when you didn't speak their language. Shirou's Servant was a petite blond girl, in an armored dress. Her weapon was invisible, so Archer didn't know her identity. All Harry knew was she was called "Saber". It must be another class of Servant.

For some reason Archer HATED Shirou. It was more than that though. Harry couldn't sort out all the emotions that came pouring in every time his Servant saw the newest Master. Rage, regret, pity, determination, hope? If he could only understand what Shirou had said to upset Archer so much. Archer had even come close to killing the boy with an arrow that generated a huge explosion. It was aimed at this giant, savage Servant - Berserker. That dream had been more like a nightmare. Harry had woken up sweating. The...aura of the lead-skinned giant was oppressive. It made him feel like he was going to be crushed like a bug. No, that it was just better to stop breathing and die so that the monster might leave him alone. The Hungarian Horntail, the Basilisk, Voldemort - none of them had the sheer killing intent of the snow fairy girl's Servant. The effect was magnified by being a dream. There were no decisions to be made, no rational examination of the situation, no adrenaline, there was just the feeling, the sensation of the dream. Harry had talked to Archer afterwards and his Servant said he was trying to figure a way to stop the dreams. Harry got the sense that Berserker was just the tip of the iceberg.

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Saturday had been an unmitigated disaster in Harry's opinion. For some reason, Ron had been surly all week. The red-headed Gryffindor had been obsessing about something, and was increasingly short with both him and Hermione. It didn't help matters that all their classes had started requiring silent magic. Hermione was being a little grating as well. Every other word out of her mouth seemed to be about Runes or Archer. Still, Harry enjoyed her enthusiasm. He guessed that Ron didn't. There was also the chance that Ron was psyching himself out about the Quidditch tryouts. It had started when Katie Bell had insisted on trying out. Her logic that being on the team for 5 years was no reason to get a free pass must've had a profound effect on Ron who'd only been on the team for 1 year. It was doubly bad because Ron tensed up when he was nervous.

The tryouts themselves were a spectacle. Harry hated the Ministry. They'd turned him into a martyr. Now that the truth was revealed, he was even more popular because of it. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had shown up at the Gryffindor team's tryout! Hermione had just smiled and said it was a result of him being the 'Chosen One'. Harry would've been happy with just that, but a large number of Gryffindors with no real desire to play had shown up as well. The most obnoxious was the gaggle of lower-year girls that had accosted him on the Hogwarts Express. Katie Bell and Ginny had been their usual brilliant selves. It was easy to put them on the team. The problem had been with Ron.

Harry's friend had been stiff, nervous, and still sulky. There was a stiff competition for Keeper in the form of Cormac McLaggen. The older boy had missed out last year because of some stupid bet he'd made. The two of them blocked all 5 shots, so Harry had them repeat the test, again and again. On the 4th try, after blocking 19 Quaffles in a row, Ron missed a particularly nasty throw of Ginny's. This let Cormac - who hadn't shut up the ENTIRE TIME - to pull ahead. Reluctantly Harry had given him the Keeper position and made Ron the backup.

Ron and Hermione nearly got into a row, but Harry got them to stop before they reached Hagrid's hut. The Gameskeeper had been obviously upset that his 3 favorite students had dropped his Care of Magical Creatures class. In truth, all of them disliked dealing with the monsters that Hagrid considered 'cute'. They couldn't tell the gigantic man that, so they made up excuses of being too busy with all their homework. That part, at least, was true. Harry's dream of having tons of free time due to lack of classes had been shattered fairly early on. So now the day was over. He was tired. He smelled awful. Ron and Hermione weren't talking to each other. When he went to bed, he might have to deal with Berserker again.

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Archer had kept an eye on his wayward Master from atop the Gryffindor tower. Quidditch seemed like a suitable pastime for the children, but he could tell Harry would rather be playing than being forced to lead. It was too bad, because as the Counter Force's Champion he'd probably have to lead people eventually. Despite his preference for melee combat, Archer had been a member of his high school's archery club. It was nostalgic to look at children hanging out and having fun with extra-curricular activities. The trip to the gigantic Professor had looked like it mended some kind of fence. Hagrid seemed quite happy to talk to the trio. They must've had falling out, since by the end of it they all were beaming like they'd just been reunited with an old friend. Archer jumped down and intercepted them back on their way back to the castle.

"Master."

"Ah! Quit doing that you pon... er, I mean Professor. Appearing out of thin air is a little frightening." Ron's face was blushing after being caught off-guard by the etherial Servant.

"Just be glad it's me and not someone that'd do more than surprise you if they got the drop on you. In any case, Master I think I have a solution to the dreams you've been having."

Harry perked up at the news. "Really?! That'd be really helpful!"

"What are you going to do?" Hermione's posture had changed. She had uncrossed her arms, and was leaning towards the red clad teacher. "Does it have something to do with your style of magic?"

"In a way, yes. *sigh* You're going to insist on coming along aren't you?" The excited girl nodded. "Very well, let's go to my office shall we?" The walk to his office seemed tense for some reason. Ron was silent, and Harry's expression was pained. The mental link made it clear that his Master was concerned about his friend. Archer assumed that's Ron's attitude was atypical, otherwise it wouldn't be a cause for worrying. Still, that's what life was like for a teenager. Archer's childhood hadn't had that sort of drama, but it would've been preferable to being drawn into the Grail War.

"So what are you going to do?" Hermione directed the question at him.

"You'll see when we get there, but basically I'm going to give Harry a sword."

"A sword? That's...nice I guess, but how's that going to help me? Unless it can sever dreams, it won't be very useful."

"Actually, that's exactly what it can do, but I'm hoping we can use it more productively."

"What sword could do something like that? I've never even heard mention of dream-magic before!" Hermione was beginning to get on a roll again. Archer cut her off before it could really get started though.

"Let's wait until we're in my office to go into greater detail shall we?"

"Yes, Professor."

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Once they had entered the Defense Professor's office, Archer shut the door and turned towards them. There was still nothing in the room. Harry felt the barren space was crowded for some reason, even if the lack of furniture should've had the opposite effect. It was like there was a sense of...something in the air.

"Oh! A Formalcraft circle!" Hermione exclaimed. Looking down, Harry saw that there was a circle drawn along the floor of the room. "This is to... keep out foreign prana and... avoid the notice of, the Earth?"

"Very good. I'm impressed you were able to identify it's intended function at a glance. It should also help prevent scrying, but that's just a side effect. The bounded fields around Hogwarts do a fine job of that already." Archer held out his right hand, and with a golden flash a sword appeared. It was about 3 feet long, and curved. Its tip didn't come to one point, instead the sword's blade was inverted. This created a pronged end with two tips. The hilt and guard were a golden color, and the blade itself was a brilliant silver. "This is Dhu al-Fiqar: the Blade of Dreams, one of the nine swords of the Prophet. It came to him in a dream, and thus will only cut dreams. It's power as a Noble Phantasm is quite limited, though it's specialty makes is uniquely capable of solving several of our problems."

"What's a Noble Phantasm?" Hermione asked.

"Didn't I go over that already? No, I guess I didn't." Archer let out a long-suffering sigh, which Harry thought was completely un-warranted. "A Noble Phantasm is a 'Crystallized Mystery'. They are the actualization of the imagination of the Human Race as a whole. They are the powers of legendary figures given form. Usually they manifest as weapons or armor - the quintessential armaments of a Heroic Spirit."

"So if King Arthur was a Heroic Spirit, then his Noble Phantasm would be Excalibur?"

"Exactly. Though a Heroic Spirit of the King of Knights' fame would possess multiple Noble Phantasms."

"So what does du-a-fecar do?" Harry was eyeing the blade with a keen look.

"Master, it's pronounced 'Dhu al-Fiqar'. Do try to get it right, or my efforts will be wasted. To activate a Noble Phantasm, you must say it's name and channel prana into it. Doing either by itself won't have an effect. That said, the Blade of Dreams has a passive ability which is always active." Archer turned the sword in his hands and brought it through his stomach. It was as if the sword was nothing more than an illusion, it passed through the Servant's body as if it were air. "It cuts dreams, not bodies."

"Cool! Can I try?" Ron took the sword. His practice swings were cut short when the sword hit the wall with a *Clang!*.

"*sigh* Walls don't have dreams, so it'll just be a regular sword for that purpose. It's a copy of the original, so it's only rank E. So don't expect to use it to do any real fighting." Ron looked abashed and handed the sword back to Archer.

"So, I'm going to carry it around? How's it going to stop the dreams?"

"In a sense yes, you're going to always be carrying it. It will stop the dreams by giving you prophetic ones instead."

Harry had hoped the dreams would stop completely. He didn't care for Divination, and the thought of having to put up with smoky dreams filled with fog and strange symbols was giving him second thoughts. "So it won't just let me sleep like normal?"

"It's presence should disrupt the dream aspect of our link. Your dreams may still incorporate aspects of my past as well as your own, such is the nature of dreams. I was hoping to use it for something more important. Voldemort hid something very important at Hogwarts. Both Dumbledore and I haven't been able to locate it. We're not even certain what it is. Given your destiny, I think the dreams you have could be very helpful."

At the mention of the Dark Lord, Harry felt his resolution grow. If he could stop Voldemort, stop what happened to Sirius, Cedric, or Neville's parents from happening again, he'd do far more than enduring a few scary dreams. "I'll do it."

Archer nodded. "Good. It seems I have a brave Master." The Servant placed his left hand on his chest, and began to slowly pull something out. A golden outline of a sword followed his hand, becoming more distinct the further it left the Heroic Spirit. When it was fully extracted, Archer held a gorgeous golden sheath in his hand. The three teenagers could only gasp at the otherworldly beauty of it's construction.

"What...what is that?" Ron voiced all of their thoughts.

"This is Avalon - the hallowed scabbard of Excalibur. It is King Arthur's Noble Phantasm that's represents the ultimate utopia that was promised."

"Is it a copy too? How can that be only a copy?" Hermione gasped.

"It's a copy in the same sense I am. In life I had it embedded in me. When the Holy Grail created a vessel for me, it created a perfect copy of all of my experiences. Unlike other copies, Alaya herself supports this one. As long as I exist, so will it. It will not degrade or break down like other Noble Phantasms I possess."

"Other? You have MORE? Isn't, isn't this what Merlin said would prevent King Arthur from losing a drop of blood as long as he held it? How did you get it?" A rapid stream of questions erupted from the trio. Harry could FEEL how powerful the sheath was. There was no doubt in his mind that this was what once held the legendary Excalibur.

"Just calm down ok? Avalon is actually powerless to anyone but King Arthur. All Noble Phantasms are like that. In her hands.." Her? Harry thought. "It would be the ultimate defense, but for us - it's a sheath. It's power eclipses Dhu al-Fiqar's so the Dreaming Blade will be hidden. It will also keep the sword in existence. Finally, I can place Avalon inside you Master. That will let Dhu al-Fiqar to always be at your side."

"Do it." Harry felt...eager. Not because this would help against Voldemort. Not because it would give him pleasant dreams again. It was because the thought of Avalon was tempting. The power of the Noble Phantasm felt...right.

Archer sheathed the sword. Despite the difference in length, size and shape, the Blade of Dreams fit perfectly. Archer then turned the tip of Avalon towards Harry. The Noble Phantasm began to dissolve into golden light as it turned into energy and entered the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry could feel it. A smile came to his face. With a Servant like Archer, and a gift like Avalon - there was nothing Voldemort could do.

Hermione had raise her hand. "If a Noble Phantasm can only be used by it's owner, then how can Harry use Dhu al-Fiqar?"

"Since it's just a copy I made, I adjusted it a little so I'm it's owner. The Master-Servant bond allows that same control to be had by Harry." Archer turned to his Master. "Before you sleep, concentrate on the sword inside you. Focus on sending power into it, and speak it's name. If you activated it, you'll know."

"Dhu al-Fiqar!" Harry closed his eyes and tried to envision the sword. With it in mind, he tried to 'flow' magical energy into the weapon. Nothing happened. "Uhm, I'm not really sure how to do that."

"Hmmm... Looks like I'm going to have to adjust my lesson plan a bit. I'd wanted you to start practical dueling from the very start, but I guess Reinforcement is the next step."

"Reinforcement?"

"I'll explain in class. For now, get some rest. Even the passive effect of the Sword of Dreams will disrupt the sleeping aspect of our bond."

True to Archer's word, Harry had a pleasant night's sleep. It was great, for the first time in what felt like forever, his dreams were his own again. Not that the dreams about Archer hadn't been interesting, but combined with the stress that was being piled onto 6th years it was too much. Not having to face Berserker in his dreams was definitely a huge plus as well.

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Harry woke early after having a pleasant rest. In the Gryffindor common room, he found Hermione reading a book of Arthurian Legends.

"Mornin' 'mione, What's that?"

"Good morning Harry, I'm just trying to figure out who Professor Archer is."

"Didn't he tell us he didn't exist in this world or something? I don't think he'd be in a book in that case."

"He said he was a nameless hero, and that he never existed in our world. How does he know that though? If he is from a different world, why are there some things like King Arthur that are the same?"

"Different but similar?"

"That, or he is from this world and doesn't want to say. Either way, I think there's a good chance he's a side character."

"A side character?"

"Yeah, like Lancelot's unmentioned son, or Galahad's cousin or something."

"Why something like that?"

"The legends say that Morgan le Fay - half sister of King Arthur - stole his magical sheath and threw it in a lake. So, it would have to be someone from around that time right? If he's 'nameless' then he's not a Knight of the Roundtable or another famous character. That leaves a side character that's not mentioned much or at all."

"If he wouldn't be mentioned, then why are you trying to read about him."

Hermione looked down at her book. "No reason! I mean, it's important to know stuff about people. Besides the Arthurian Legend is really interesting. There are a lot of subtle differences in the wizarding stories and the muggle ones! It's really fun to have another point of view!"

Just then a loud yawn was heard, the heralded the approach of Ron. "G'mornin' Harry, Hermione."

Hermione let out a little sniff and replied "Good morning Ron."

"Since we're all up, let's go get breakfast!" Harry felt amazing. "I think I'm going to out-eat you today Ron!"

"What? I'll eat you under the table!" The food eating challenge perked Ron right up.

"Honestly you two, try to have a little self-decorum." Hermione's words were betrayed by the smile on her face. Harry didn't know what had been going on the past week, but Ron and Hermione were in good moods again.

On the way to the Great Hall, Ron wore a huge smile. "D'ya think Archer might give me a sword too? I mean even if it didn't last long, a magical sword would be brilliant! Just think how cool it'd be!"

"He might. I mean he said he had multiple Noble Phantasm thingys right?"

"Yeah, that's right! I'm sure he can spare one for me!"

There were only a few students scattered though out the hall and eating breakfast. It was Sunday, so most everyone was sleeping late. Hagrid was sitting at the head table, and Harry returned the wave the gigantic man made. It was nice to have cleared things up with him. Care of Magical Creatures wasn't any fun, but Harry had never wanted to hurt Hagrid's feelings. As Harry sat down, food appeared in front of him. He dug in with a fervor that almost put Ron to shame. Across the hall he saw Draco. The Malfoy was eating by himself, and gave Harry a sneer when their eyes met. Harry didn't see Crabbe or Goyle anywhere.

"Why do you think Malfoy's up so early, and without his lackeys?"

Ron looked over. "Probably got fed up with them. 5 years is probably a really long time to be friends with those two."

Harry laughed. "Draco without his thugs, that'd be great!"

Hermione was daintily eating her food. "He might just want to study."

"I'm pretty sure that's just you Hermione." Ron chuckled to himself. Hermione stuck her tongue out, but smiled afterwards.

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Archer looked around at the class that contained his Master and his friends. If opening your circuits and gathering od to circulate was the first step, then Reinforcement was the second. It would be more appropriate to call opening your circuits the 0th step though. In Archer's world it was the most basic of abilities that every magus had to do before they performed any spellwork.

"Today we're going to start on 'Reinforcement'. It's the act of pouring your magical energy into an object. Doing so enhances the natural parameters that already exist. A knife can become sharper or harder. It could make food taste better or worse and even change it's nutritional value. If something has a 'purpose of existence', that aspect can be improved." Archer picked up a glass ball that was on his desk. "The most basic attribute is durability. Every physical object possesses it, so it's the most straight-forward thing to enforce." Archer threw the ball to the ground. Rather than shatter into a thousand pieces, the glass sphere just bounced once, then twice. "Now I'm going to stop you once you've gotten the hang of it, but this isn't something to practice on your own." The Servant picked up the discarded container and held it up. Cracks began to appear before the ball exploded into shrapnel. "Applying too much prana will destabilize the object. It's hard to detect, and potentially deadly. With practice you'll be able to identify this maximum value, until then restrain yourselves. If you haven't started to circulate your prana, you won't be able to do this. I suggest you practice on your own time unless you want to be left behind." Several students squirmed at that announcement. Archer waved his hand and a glass ball appeared on the desks of every student who'd succeeded last time. "Those balls have a large capacity, and will disintegrate instead of exploding if you mess up. Glass is a natural conductor of prana, so you should have an easier time." Most of the class looked at their new glass spheres with a look of disbelief. "The key is to let the magic that you have circulating inside of you flow into the object instead." Archer clapped his hands. "Get to it!"

There was a sound of robes rustling as the glass balls were picked up, and then silence. Archer walked around the classroom looking at the students. There were still several that were trying to merely open their circuits. Since the orbs were something he made with projection, using structural grasp to observe the students progress was possible even if they weren't weapons. Archer could feel the prana radiating from his students, but so far there hadn't been any change to the balls themselves. The Granger girl made the first breakthrough. There was a sudden influx of her od into the glass, but it just as quickly stopped.

"That's it Granger. You had it for a second there. Try and capture that feeling."

Draco's sphere was the next that he felt a change in. It differed from Hermione's by that it was a gradual swelling that lasted a little bit before subsiding.

"Good job Malfoy. Maintain that level for longer. Once your prana starts flowing in, you should feel the resistance increase. Use that to help you judge how much it can hold."

The blonde scowled and closed his eyes. Archer could feel the boy's od lapping at the edges of the glass. He was honestly impressed. People were picking this up more easily than he'd expected. Having such a large population of magic-users, and formalizing their education from a young age seemed to produce results. Of course it was the 6th years that had performed the best in their first class - so their continued performance with Reinforcement wasn't too surprising. Archer wondered why exactly they were picking things up better than even the 7th years. By the end of the class, 3 more students had succeeded in opening their circuits.

Hermione's pulses of magic were getting closer together. She was feeling out the sweet spot for how to make Prana flow out of her and into the ball, rather than dissipating into the surrounding. Harry and Ron were having more difficulty. The pair had barely managed a combined 10 'pulses' during the class's duration. Neville Longbottom had only had one pulse, but it had been the largest of all the children. Draco Malfoy's technique was the best in the classes. His 'pulses' were more drawn out. It was a slow influx that spoke of his control. At the end of the class he gave Draco 20 points, and Hermione 15. Handing out points was fun, but there wasn't anyone far enough from the rest of the group to really be set apart.

As the class emptied, Archer noticed that Draco had stayed behind. The gang of Sytherins that he lead left without him. Archer had decided to let the spheres disperse on their own in order to get a better feeling of how long projected objects could last in this world. "May I help you with something Mr. Malfoy?" Draco had approached his desk.

"I was wondering, can a magic item be enhanced with 'Reinforcement'?"

"It depends on the item. Those that were constructed to be magical from their conception can be improved, while items that were enchanted later cannot. It's a dangerous and potentially deadly thing to attempt. Pushing anything to it's limit will result in a significant increase in it's effectiveness, whether it's a magical or a mundane object. Using a magical item like that will almost assuredly destroy it, but it's power with be multiplied several times over. Magical items tend to be able to hold more prana, and so when they break it's with spectacular results." Archer was an expert on this subject. 'Breaking' Noble Phantasms let them have a power boost at the cost of being destroyed afterwards. No Legendary Soul would normally ever consider such an attack, but for a Faker using stolen weapons...

"So if a magical item was created with a purpose in mind, but broke...could Reinforcement help?"

"It would be tricky to get it to permanently work again. Temporarily restoring functionality would be easier. It's not an easy task to perform. If it's an item of sufficient power or complexity then you may not have enough od to make it work in one go. That would mean leaving a magical item sitting around in a dangerous state, so I would recommend using more commonplace methods to fix whatever is broken."

The young Slytherin nodded. "Thank you Professor." Archer noticed that Draco had taken his glass ball with him. Eh, if he hadn't asked then Archer really wasn't under any obligation to let him know the ball would dissipate at some point. Conjured items in this world didn't last forever either, so Draco really should see it coming.

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"Dobby."

"Yes, Master Harry Potter?" The House Elf appeared with a crack. Dobby was wearing a multitude of socks tied together and wrapped around himself. He also wore several pairs on each foot. Harry had stayed up in the Gryffindor common room working on circulating his prana and injecting it into the furniture. He hadn't had the slightest bit of luck. If he could activate Dhu al-Fiqar then they could figure something out about Voldemort, and they'd be one step closer to defeating the Dark Lord. He was holding things up now. Reinforcement was something he had to practice, but he'd been having no success. What Archer said about glass came back to him, it'd be easier to practice with, but Harry wasn't about to potentially ruin his glasses.

"Could you find me a small glass object? Oh, and would you get me a sandwich too?" It was abusing the eagerness to please that Dobby bore towards him, but it was more responsible than sneaking to the kitchen.

"Dobby will get a glass and a sandwich!" Dobby disappeared with a crack. In less than a minute, another crack announced his return. "Dobby has Harry Potter's glass and sandwich!" The House Elf held out a plate with a small french loaf on it, and an empty glass.

"Thanks Dobby." Harry put the glass down on the table beside him. Fortunately it was made of glass. Harry had been concerned that the excitable House Elf might've mis-understood his request. On second thought, perhaps he did and Harry had just been lucky.

"Does Master Harry Potter need anything else?" Harry began to wolf down the sandwich. It was roast beef with sauteed onions and melted cheddar cheese. The smell of it made Harry realize just how hungry he was.

"I'm fine Dobby. How have you been?"

"Dobby likes working at Hogwarts. Dobby gets paid and feeding and cleaning after Harry Potter and his friends is a great honor!"

Harry remembered Kreacher, and that the surly House Elf was working in the Hogwarts kitchen now too. "How's Kreacher doing?"

"Kreacher is a bad House Elf! Kreacher always talks about how Harry Potter isn't a great hero!" The small House Elf was fuming. "Kreacher also spends all his free time with his stupid locket. Dobby asked Kreacher what was locket, but Kreacher insulted Dobby! Kreacher values locket, but is constantly hitting it with lots of really heavy things! Dobby thinks Kreacher isn't right in the head." Harry nodded at Dobby's words. Apparently the sock-wearing House Elf had some strong opinions about Harry's other servant. Not that Harry could blame him much. Dobby's tirade had given him time to finish the roast-beef sandwich. It was good!

"Well, do your best." Harry patted his now-full stomach.

"Yes, Dobby always does his best for Harry Potter!"

"Er, thanks Dobby." Dobby smiled and picked up the empty plate and disappeared with a crack.

With his stomach now full, and having had a nice break from his practice, Harry picked up the glass Dobby left. He closed his eyes and imagined the hammer of a gun slamming down. Magical power coursed through him. It was getting easier and easier to open his circuit and let his magic flow. It felt nice, but it always made him sweat under his thick robes. Harry's green eyes opened and focused on the glass. He could feel the power flowing through him. Now if he could just direct it into the cup in his hand.

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Slughorn opened the door two seconds after the knock. He'd been waiting by the door for three seconds ever since the wards had informed him of a visitor, and Horace had identified him as one of his old friends.

"Hello Horace."

"Good evening Barnabas." Horace Slughorn greeted one of his 'Slug Club' members who had exceeded his expectations. Barnabas Cuffe was the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet. Arguably one of the most powerful wizards politically. "May I ask why you're dropping in on me unannounced? It's a pleasure to see you, but I don't get many social calls these days."

"I'm afraid I am here in somewhat of a professional capacity. You see, I just had the most interesting conversation with Minister Bones, who sends her regards by the way." Barnabas held out a small package he was carrying.

Slughorn opened it to find a case of crystalized pineapple. "I didn't know Amelia Bones knew what my favorite was, and from Romania no less. What's in the other package?"

Barnabas smiled as he opened the small box he still had. Inside was a decanter of firewhisky. "We haven't talked in a while, so I thought I'd break open one of my finer bottles. Blishen makes the finest firewhisky there is. This bottle is more than 200 years old."

"What's the occasion?"

"I'm celebrating the Ministry's new policy."

"Oh?"

"We're going to do an expose on You-Know-Who." Barnabas frowned. "I can't say for certain it'll actually be published even with the Ministry's backing, but things have been peaceful in London ever since that Department of Mysteries fiasco."

Horace motioned to his old friend to come and sit down, while he popped a wedge of pineapple in his mouth. It had a wonderful tangy flavor, quite sublime and different from the England variety. "There's been lots of talk about the London Vigilante. The aurors are doing an impressive job of keeping the peace during the day. With Death Eaters showing up dead in the streets in the morning, I feel quite safe in London these days."

"I wish there was information on the vigilante. It'd make for a marvelous story." Barnabas summoned two glasses and filled them with the red alcohol from the bottle. "We've heard rumors about his identity. Those that don't know Dumbledore's style think it's him. Other's think Harry Potter must be doing it since he's the 'Chosen One'. Heh, the Quibbler even printed a story saying it was Gellert Grindelwald's Ghost come back from the dead to teach the upstart Dark Lord a lesson."

"Utter poppycock." Horace raised his glass in a toast. "Everyone knows The Daily Prophet is the best newspaper for getting the facts!"

"Here here!" Their glassed tinked, and the two wizards sipped their firewhisky. The alcohol spread a warmth through Slughorn's body. The tanginess of the pineapples combined with the spice of the drink to make a delicious flavor. "Amelia Bones thinks that spreading information about the Dark Lord's past may help erode his power base."

"Tom Riddle was a model student. There's not much there."

"Some rumors about his activities as a student have reached my ears. Of course, when you consider he grew up to become You-Know-Who, then there's nothing really surprising about it." Barnabas emptied his cup and then refilled both of their glasses. "The most damning of evidence may be that Riddle was only a half-blood. Some of his pure-blood supporters may not be so inclined to side with someone who's very presence is against their ideals."

Horace was starting to feel very happy. The firewhisky had already started giving him a nice buzz. "If they believed such a thing."

"That's why Minister Bones wants me to investigate personally." Barnabas winked. "She thinks that if I can string together enough facts, that proving Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who beyond a shadow of a doubt is possible. Since Riddle's ancestry is a public record, there's no way to deny it. Every source would be strictly confidential of course."

"Of course. Can't go giving You-Know-Who new targets. The London Vigilante can't be everywhere at once...probably." Slughorn chuckled at his own joke. He chewed another piece of crystalized pineapple, and licked the sugar off his fingers. These really were high-quality sweets.

"Any memories you had would be appreciated, no matter how inconsequential."

"My memories?" Slughorn had a slight frown come to his face. There was something there, something in his memories that was shameful, but he was feeling too good from the firewhisky to really care. "I could just tell you what you wanted to know."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bore you by having you recount story after story. I can look over the memories in my own time." Barnabas reached over and topped off the former professor's drink.

"Well, I suppose. It's nicer to talk about other things after all."

"Quite right." Barnabas pulled out several empty bottles from his robes. "So why don't you just fill these up?"

"All right." Slughorn thought he might've slurred that last bit, but Barnabas didn't say anything so it was probably his imagination. He touched his wand to his temple and began to pull out all the memories he could think of regarding Tom Riddle. After he was done, Barnabas thanked him and left. Horace Slughorn frowned. He'd taken the firewhisky with him...

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"Did you get them?"

Barnabas Cuffe's form twisted into Nymphadora Tonks. "I don't know exactly what we'd be looking for, but he gave me lots of memories about Riddle." The young auror held up the tubes filled with the silvery liquid.

"Good." Mad-Eye's magical eye was spinning rapidly.

"What was in that firewhisky anyways? I may be a metamorphmagus, but neutralizing poison is still hard."

"It was a two-compound solution. Couldn't give a potion's master something he'd identify the effects of right? The firewhisky by itself would just be quadruply effective. Without the crystalized pineapples, it'll just get you really drunk."

"So it's ok to have left the sweets?"

"Yeah, no harm, and nothing in them that is particularly suspicious. A bit of odd ingredients, but nothing that isn't used for sweets often enough." Moody jerked his head. "Let's get those to Albus. We need to know if there's a need to start with Plan C."

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Archer's gaze over London fell upon a trio of trolls and one giant. Were the Death Eaters really bringing in creatures like that? This world had the same ban on keeping magic a secret. Openly parading such large creatures around was surely breaking that law, right? Were the Death Eaters thinking that it'd be hard to kill them because of their size? No, there was another reason. Several robed mages were idly standing around outside tonight. Archer had seen a gust of wind reveal one of their arms earlier. Rather, it had shown him Voldemort's Dark Mark. Their plan must be to pinpoint his location for an ambush. The odds of him losing such a confrontation were quite low, but with Voldemort's Horcruxes still out there he couldn't risk it.

Aside from some accidental damage, the Dark creatures weren't causing any ruckus. The wizard that was escorting the lumbering monsters must have surrounded them with a bounded field that let them escape notice. Archer waited until they entered Knockturn Alley. Once they were inside the wizarding community, their dead bodies wouldn't cause an uproar. The narrow street also forced them to walk single file. Taking all of them out with a single shot that traveled far too fast for any prying eyes to see would be simple. Trace on.

"I am the bone of my sword."

Archer pulled back his bow and Traced Hrunting. He'd modified it so it was easier to change to an arrow. For long-range sniping it was ideal. The Hound of the Red Plains' path could be adjusted mid-flight, and it traveled at speeds in excess of Mach 10.

"Hruntring!"

The red bullet took the trolls, the giant, and their handler out in one blow. It all happened in less than a blink of an eye. Archer stayed materialized for a second to note which magic-users were scanning the sky looking for him. It wouldn't do to kill them all, several were most-likely innocent people filled with curiosity. That one he'd seen the mark on though... He'd be first as soon as Archer acquired a new sniping post.

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A/N: The Quidditch Tryouts and the visit to Hagrid's cottage happen pretty much exactly like they did in canon (except for Hermione not cheating to help Ron out this time). I'd rather just reference the scenes that Rowling wrote, rather than try to re-write them or plagiarize canon. Just imagine Cormac McLaggen being his usual charming self.


	6. Chapter 6

It had taken a week of practice, but Harry had started getting the hang of Reinforcement. Once Hermione had gotten it down, she explained it in a way that made sense to him. It wasn't that he hadn't been sending his od out, rather he'd been 'missing' the ball. By trying harder he'd just been pushing his prana further and further away. Hermione had him hold the ball between his hands. Like that, it was easy to detect when he overshot his target. Soon he was getting the feel of Reinforcing objects.

Activating Dhu al-Fiqar was another matter entirely. The Dreaming Blade didn't have a material presence anymore. It was a concept, wrapped inside of another concept and placed inside his body. How was he supposed to pour prana into something like that? It didn't help that he was also being over-loaded with work from his other classes. Harry just didn't have time to track Archer down during the day. His Servant left Hogwarts immediately after his last class of the day. Harry had never seen him at the dinner table since the Welcoming Feast. Dumbledore was also a rare sight at meals. Harry was worried about the blackened hand of the Headmaster, but it wasn't like he could just go up to him and ask.

Archer's class had once again leaped topics. Archer had them duel, but not just duel - the Heroic Spirit had his class engage in a massive free-for-all. Harry had thought it was fun at first, but with the teacher constantly reviving students, it had lasted the ENITRE period. Students were allowed to observe if they didn't want to take part, but the thought of sitting next to Draco and his smug smile had made Harry stay in the whole time. It was only after class that Archer had warned them about 'Magical Exhaustion'. The Heroic Spirit had explained that using their wands drew magic from their surroundings. Wandless magic, or circulating their od, drew it from the students themselves. That made it wear you out quicker. Harry noted the smile on his Servant's face, and the fact that Archer had neglected to inform them of that fact until after the lengthy fight. He'd even prompted them to keep their circuits open and circulating the whole time! Harry was tired, but he'd noticed his spells packed a bit more power behind them. He could only surmise that casting with your circuits open let you empower your magic.

After class, Archer had told Harry the key to using Dhu al-Fiqar wasn't in knowing where it was to put prana into, but rather to have a firm image in his mind. 'Focus on the idea of the sword, and your knowledge of pouring prana into things. Then circulate your od, and say it's name. It's more the intent and image than anything else.' Harry had grumbled that Archer could've told him that before hand. The Servant had just smirked and said that actually being able to do Reinforcement was essential to envisioning doing it.

Harry disliked his Servant at times, he really did. At least Dobby was eager to please. The House Elf might not be as knowledgable or powerful as Archer, but he didn't take pleasure forcing people to struggle. Harry wondered just what made him the 'Master' in their relationship. It certainly wasn't Archer's attitude. He may have been abnormal, but since Harry doubted he'd ever summon another Heroic Spirit, there was no one to compare his Servant with.

Harry's Reinforcement training had also let him notice a steady stream of Prana flowing out and away from him through the marking on his hand. Archer had assured him it was normal, and the way that his magic would sustain the Heroic Spirit's continued existence. Harry wondered what would happen if he tried to block or increase the flow. With the practice he'd done, it might be possible. In the end, he decided not to risk it. If it was something important that he should be doing, Archer would've told him.

That night before going to bed, Harry opened his circuits. He closed his eyes and envisioned the Prana flowing into the Noble Phantasm.

"Dhu al-Fiqar!" There was an immediate sense that something had changed inside of him. The surge of excitement and adrenaline was probably counter-productive to falling asleep.

"What was that?" Seamus Finnigan asked.

"It's a mental exercise Professor Archer told me about." Harry replied to his roommate.

"Oh cool. He's a strange one, but no doubt about his skill. All that meditating stuff is surprisingly hard."

"You can say that again." Harry settled into bed, and awaited his dream.

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The castle was eerily quiet. Harry's footsteps echoed through the deserted halls. Where was everyone? The Boy-That-Lived wandered from room to room, but found nothing more than empty desks. In the Great Hall, the tables were loaded with food, but there was no sign that anyone had eaten any of it. A creaking came from behind him. Harry raised his arm instinctively as something flew in from the outside. A sharp pain seared through him as his forearm was struck. Harry looked around, but his attacker was nowhere to be found. The main doors were slightly ajar, so Harry rushed out them in search of whomever tried to ambush him.

Outside of Hogwarts, which looked like a 3 story muggle high-school now, Harry saw a figure in a dark robe running away towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry chased after him. The forest was as silent as the castle, the only sound he heard was his assailant crashing through the underbrush. It made it easy to follow him, and in less than a minute Harry came across a teenage boy in a clearing. He was wearing a Hogwarts robe with green trim and a green and silver tie. Gray blue eyes looked out under a mop of curly blue (wait, blue?) hair.

"Glad you could make it Potter."

"Matou." Harry somehow knew this person was Shinji Matou: a classmate of his and one of the most unpleasant people he'd ever met.

"You've fallen right into my trap. You really are a terrible excuse for a Master aren't you?"

"What?"

A cackling erupted as a figure materialized behind Shinji. Harry loathed her. Bellatrix Lestrange. She was dressed in a revealing short black muggle dress and long boots and gloves. Her outfit was trimmed with purple, and she wore a blindfold over her eyes. "Percussum Incarcerous!" The Deatheater motioned with her wand and chains shot out of it. Harry dodged to the side, but one of the chains had flown over a tree branch and wrapped around his left arm from above. Bellatrix motioned with her wand and Harry was jerked off his feet and dangled in the air.

"Now you're in for it Potter. Everyone in Hogwarts will be killed."

"Shinji, you.."

"Quiet Potter! Can't you see I've won? That I'm the superior Magus?"

Harry grit his teeth, if there was something he could do. Some weapon he could call upon... "Dhu al-Fiqar!" The Blade of Dreams materialized in his right hand. With a sweep, the chains holding him suspended were cut in two. Shinji's eyes grew wide.

"No! How could you? Rider, get me out of here!" Moving with a supernatural speed, Bellatrix picked up the teenager and bolted past Harry. He tried to keep up, but the blindfolded woman's speed was too great. Exiting the forest, Harry could see the fleeing pair entering Hogwarts. The sword in his hand threw his sense of balance off a little while running, but Harry made it to the doors to the castle without incident. As he passed through them, the world turned red. It was like there was blood in his eyes. Harry glanced outside and saw a huge red dome surrounding the castle. There was a sickness in the air. Harry turned back around and raced through the abandoned hallways in search of Matou.

In the defense room, students laid slumped over their desks. They weren't moving. They weren't breathing. A small cry came from the back corner. As Harry approached, he found Shinji sitting on the ground with his arms around his legs. The blue-haired boy was rocking back and forth.

"I didn't do it... I didn't do it... I didn't do it..."

"Didn't do what?"

"Ahhhhh!" Shinji jerked back at the sound of Harry's voice. His eyes glanced to the side. Laying face up on the floor was Bellatrix. Her body was covered with wounds, and blood was pooling around her. As Harry watched, the Death Eater's corpse dissolved away into glowing sparks.

"What did you do Matou?"

"Leave me alone Potter!" Shinji scrambled to his feet and made for the door. Harry moved to block him, but the desperate boy suddenly shrank as his form turned into a ferret. The small transformed animal raced past Harry. He gave chase, but outside in the hallway there stood a monstrous looking skeleton. It wielded an evil looking sword, and didn't possess a skull, just a fanged jawbone. The skeleton lunged, but Harry batted it's weapon aside with the Blade of Dreams. There was a loud clunk as the severed half of the skeleton's sword hit the ground. Harry wasted no time and pressed his advantage. The Noble Phantasm sliced through the monstrosity with no resistance. The ferret had moved several yards away while Harry had been dealing with the skeleton. The two of them raced through the passageways. One hallway was from Hogwarts, the next from a muggle high-school.

Harry was gaining when he turned a corner, and Shinji was gone. Harry glanced about, but didn't see or hear any sign of the weasel. Hanging on one side of the hallway was a tapestry depicting a wizard trying to get trolls to dance. Harry recognized that picture, it was the one opposite the entrance to the Room of Requirement. He had to find Matou. With that thought in mind, Harry walked past the dancing trolls three times. A doorway appeared in the wall, and Harry opened in and stepped through.

Inside the room, there were piles of junk that towered above him - huge mountains of broken and damaged furniture - thousands and thousands of books that were stacked haphazardly, and looked like they might topple over at any time. Behind an enormous stuffed troll, Harry saw it. The ferret was sitting on top of a cabinet, and beside it was a discolored old tiara. Harry knew. That was what he was looking for. That was what Archer needed!

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'I found the room that you were looking for.' When Harry woke up, he remembered every aspect of his dream in vivid detail. His first thought was to run off to the Room of Requirement on his own, but decided to try and contact Archer. He'd said their mental link would allow them to talk to each other while near. Harry didn't know what qualified as near though.

'Good. You have perfect timing, I just got back. Let's go immediately before everyone wakes up.'

Harry hurriedly dressed, idly wondering where Archer had been that night. Ron was snoring loudly, while Dean, Seamus, and Neville were dead to the world. The door to his bedroom squeaked when he opened it, but it didn't seem to wake up any of his roommates. Harry crept down the stairs, and found a transparent Archer waiting for him.

"How'd you get in here?" Harry blurted out his question before considering Archer's ability to become intangible. There wasn't likely anywhere the Servant could go.

'Do be quiet. You can't become etherial, and I don't want to attract attention.' Archer responded to Harry's question with a thought and a dull stare.

'Don't worry about me.' Harry took out his invisibility cloak. Once it was around him, he looked over to the Heroic Spirit. 'Can you see me?'

'My eyes aren't that sharp right now, but I can sense where you are. Lead and I'll follow.'

Harry nodded, and then realized it was a pointless gesture. He made his way out the entrance to the common room, and the painting of the Fat Lady closed behind him. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." The passcode activated the Marauder's Map, and Harry checked to make certain no one was around. The only dots in the hallway were his own and Archer's. The two of them moved silently through the corridors until Harry came to the 7th floor hallway where the Room of Requirement was located. Archer smirked at him when he walked back and forth 3 times. The look of surprise on his Servant's face was slight, but well worth it when the door appeared.

'Somehow I'm not surprised. This castle's connections can change at the oddest things.' Archer waited until Harry had opened the door and had passed through before proceeding himself. While Harry closed the door behind him, the Servant looked around what was quite possibly the greatest collection of junk he'd ever seen. Enormous piles of what could only be described as centuries of accumulated Hogwarts' trash were piled more than 20 feet high. When Harry removed his cloak, Archer materialized. "So this is a room that collects abandoned items?"

"It's the Room of Requirement. It becomes what you need it to be."

"Oh, that's convenient. A concept of 'Need', I wonder how it makes that judgement or what it's limitations are."

"It can't make food, only bring it from somewhere else. I'm not sure about the rest. You could ask Hermione, she might have some ideas."

"Does it change or create and destroy rooms as needed? Eh, it doesn't really matter. So what peace of trash are we looking for exactly?"

"It's a tiara, or at least it was in my dream."

"This won't take a moment." Archer leaped to the top of a pile on his right. The Servant lightly landed on it's peak. The stack looked like it was stacked by a drunken troll, but Archer's weight didn't disrupt a single piece. From his perch, Archer scanned the room and made a mental catalog of it's contents. 3 piles over, he saw his target. "Found it."

It was the same old tiara that Harry had seen in his dream. A sword and a burlap sack appeared in Archer's hands. The Servant picked the tiara up with the tip of the sword and deposited it in the bag. "So how will this help defeat Voldemort?"

"Now that I've seen it, I can say for certain. This object contains a piece of Voldemort's soul."

"What?"

"I think Dumbledore called it a Horcrux. I don't know the details, but as long as part of his soul remains tethered to an object in this world, it cannot continue it's cycle."

"So if we destroy it, we win?"

"Not quite. Dumbledore wasn't even certain about this being a Horcrux, but I can confirm that it is. Voldemort made more than one, so we have to get rid of them all before we can defeat him. Man, if only I could use Ciel's trump card - then this wouldn't even be needed."

"Ciel?"

"A member of the church that I was acquainted with in my life. She was...unique. She had a weapon called the 'Seventh Holy Scripture'. It wax capable of destroying the body and the soul. Unfortunately she was the only person with the power to use it."

"You can't?"

"It's not a 'sword' so much as a 'weapon', so even tracing it pushes me to my limits. It would take an entire team of magi to provide it with enough power, and it still wouldn't be as good as what Ciel could do on her own."

"Oh." Harry was a little disappointed. They found Voldemort's secret, but it wasn't the only one. Archer knew of something that could defeat the Dark Lord by itself, but he couldn't use it. There were a lot of 'but's that were taking the wind out of his sails. Still, finding the tiara could only be a good thing.

Archer handed Harry the bag. "Let's go to Dumbledore's office. I can't etherealize with the Horcrux, so you'll have to carry it."

"Right." Harry nodded, and juggled the bag and the Marauder's Map while putting on his invisibility cloak. The pair made their way to the gargoyle that stood guard outside of the Headmaster's office.

Archer materialized and said "Sugar Quills". The gargoyle made way for the pair to ascend to Dumbledore's door. Archer pounded loudly against the door. Several minutes passed before a very tired sounding Dumbledore called them inside. The ancient wizard was seated at his desk. He wore a robe that was a particularly eye-searing shade of orange. On his head sat a dark blue nightcap that was decorated with stars. His feet were clad in slippers that were designed to look like gigantic pink bunny rabbits.

"Archer, Harry, to what do I owe the honor of this early morning meeting." Dumbledore looked every bit of his 115 years. Harry could not recall ever seeing the powerful wizard in such a state.

"Harry would you dump open the bag over there?" Harry moved to comply. The tarnished tiara fell out of the sack and hit the floor with a dull metallic sound. "We found the Horcrux that Voldemort hid inside Hogwarts. I can confirm that it contains part of the soul of a human."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with excitement. The wizard stood up as if life had been breathed back into him. He took out his wand and began to cast spell after spell. "There. We are as secured as I can make us be." Dumbledore bent over the discarded piece of jewelry. "Yes. I do believe this is the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. It was supposed to have gone missing a very long time ago. I wonder how Tom managed to find it. It is a shame to destroy such an artifact, but it has been corrupted beyond repair."

"I might be able to do something about that. Remember when I said I'd like to practice on one? If you'd indulge me, I have a few theories I'd like to test."

"By all means Mr. Archer."

An evil-looking dagger appeared in the Heroic Spirit's hand. Dumbledore tilted his head, as if the sight of the weapon reminded him of something. It's blade was iridescent, and curved back and forth before coming to a blunt point. Harry didn't know much about weapons, but it didn't look to be a very practical design. "What kind of dagger is that? It doesn't look very effective."

"This is Rule Breaker: the dagger that Medea from Greek legends used to make sacrifices. As it's victims were bound, there was no need for it to be sharp or strong."

"Then what, may I ask is it's purpose?" Dumbledore had leaned forward and was examining the weapon through his half-moon spectacles.

"'This is a sword of negation and betrayal, that nullifies every kind of magecraft in the world.' To quote it's original owner. It ends all contracts, life, enchantments, and connections made from magic. They are ended without any penalty, and their state is returned to that of before the magic was cast."

"Fascinating."

Archer brought the tip of the dagger down upon the diadem. There was a sound of metal scraping, but nothing else. "Hmmmm... It appears that the spell is too strong, or perhaps it's not effective against permanently enchanted artifacts. It could also be the result of using a fake." Archer frowned. "It's too bad, I thought the ultimate Anit-Magic Noble Phantasm would be the most likely to work."

The dagger disappeared from his hand, and was replaced to a two meter long red spear. Harry balked, but it wasn't the same spear from his dreams. The color and length was the same, but compared to Gae Bolg, this spear lacked it's barbs and evil aura. "This is Gae Dearg. It severs all ties with Prana. It will effortless pass through and negate all magecraft. Spells and artifacts are no exception to it's power." Archer then stabbed the spear through the Hogwarts founder's diadem.

Dumbledore waved his wand over the tiara and murmured a few spells. "There are several enchantments that I detected earlier that are no more, but I don't think the Horcrux itself has been destroyed."

"Yes. I can still sense a soul within it." The red lance vanished, only to be replaced with a rapier-like blade. It's hilt was perfectly squared, and made the sword look like a holy cross. "This is one of the Keys of Providence. It's a Conceptual Weapon used by the church to exorcise demons." The tiara was once again stabbed, but Archer made a small grunt. "So even that won't work? I guess the Concept of demon doesn't cover Dark Lords."

"Let us not be discouraged. I know of a way to destroy the vile thing."

Archer looked to where Dumbledore's gaze rested. "The Sword of Gryffindor does possesses the power. It's absorbed venom would destroy both the Horcrux and it's vessel."

"Do you have any other options?"

"There are other weapons, but they work along the same lines as those three. I had hoped it would be enough, but I do have something riskier to try." In a flash, the cross-like sword in Archer's hand was replaced with Rule Breaker. It may have been his link with Archer, or his practice with Reinforcement, but Harry could sense a surge in Prana from his Servant. The Dagger of Betrayal's shape twisted and bent, and it began to glow a dangerous violet. Archer had poured more od into it than the blade could take. It had become close to breaking. It had become dangerous. Rule Breaker's blade continued to thrash back and forth as if it were alive. When it's blade came in contact with the diadem of Ravenclaw, there was a blinding purple flash. Rule Breaker's form disintegrated in Archer's hand. The Servant wore a smile. "The soul is gone."

Harry looked down at the tiara. Was it really cleansed? Rule Breaker was gone, but it's purple sparks lingered. No, they multiplied. More were coming out of the diadem. "Look!" Harry pointed at the artifact, which had become a fountain of purple motes of magic. A screaming face seemed to form from the sparks before the fountain died down. Before their eyes, the diadem aged as centuries of time caught up to it. It then collapsed into a pile of rubble.

"It looks like it was reduced to how it was before it had ever been enchanted. I cannot say it was negated with no consequences." Dumbledore looked down at floor where one of the more famous artifacts of Hogwarts had lain.

"That negation of magic seemed to be more... energetic than normal." Archer's brow was creased as he looked at Harry, then back down to the tiara. "The extra prana I gave Rule Breaker was pushed into it's target. I guess destroying a Horcrux without damaging the container does pose a problem. The un-broken Rule Breaker wouldn't have caused this destruction... If there was a way to weaken Voldemort's soul, I'm certain the diadem would've survived." Archer looked back over to Harry and sighed. "Weakening the soul isn't exactly a risk-free endeavor though."

"So we have confirmation that what Voldemort made were in fact Horcruxes. Now three of them have been destroyed." Dumbledore paced around the room before sitting down at his desk. "Sherbet Lemon?" The bowl of yellow candies were offered to his guests.

"Three? What were the other two? How many of them are there?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort's goal was to make six, so that his soul would've been split into seven pieces. I suspected that there were more than one for four years now. For you see, the diary of Tom Riddle was a Horcrux. To act and think on it's own, to gain a life by taking the life force of another - I can only attribute such actions to something that was created with the Darkest of Magic. If the diary was the only fragment of his soul, it would not have fallen into our hands in such a casual manner. Indeed I doubt Lucius Malfoy knew of what he arranged for young Ginny to find. After much searching I found a ring." Dumbledore held up his withered hand, on it rested a ring with a dark stone. It was hard to make out against the Headmaster's blackened skin. "It bore a powerful curse, but thanks to my own prowess and the skills of Professor Snape I managed to destroy a Horcrux at the cost of one hand. A fair trade if you ask me."

"So that makes three. The size of the soul in the diadem was just a fragment of what I would expect from a normal soul. Do we have more proof? I would hate to miss one." Archer had sat down in a chair, and was now leaning back.

"I have been searching for memories. It took a great deal of work, quite a few sweets, and a fair amount of alcohol, but I came across a memory that confirmed my suspicion. Voldemort's goal was indeed six Horcruxes. The diary, the ring, and the diadem are three. I also know he stole the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, those would undoubtedly have been corrupted in the same nature as the Rowena's diadem. That leaves one more." Dumbledore exchanged a knowing glance with Archer. "Horcruxes can only be made with the murder of another. Voldemort would choose his murders like he choose the items to house his soul. They must have had significance to him. He was going to make a Horcrux with the death of the one prophesied to be his equal, you Harry."

"He was going to use my death to make a Horcrux? So he died before he made his sixth?"

"A reasonable assumption. That is why I think that upon his revival, he quickly made his final Horcrux, out of his familiar Nagini. The snake shows humanlike intelligence, and it's rapport with Voldemort goes beyond what is even possible with Parseltounge."

"So the locket and the cup. We still have to find those."

"I am close to tracking down a hiding place Voldemort made. There we should find either the cup or locket. My hypothesis is that he gave a Horcrux to each of his most prominent followers. To Lucius Malfoy, he gave the diary. The would've given the final Horcrux to..."

"Bellatrix!" Harry exclaimed. There was no one as devoted as the person who'd murdered Sirius.

"Yes, Bellatrix is the most likely candidate. The Lestrange estate was confiscated by the Ministry when all of it's members were sentenced to Azkaban."

"What about he vault at Gringots?" Harry had a sudden flash of insight. "The Ministry couldn't access that right?"

"Gringots is the most secure bank in the world. They guard their client's vaults with a fervor that only goblins can possess."

"I suppose I could go in ethereally and look around."

"I doubt that would work Archer. Goblins ward against ghosts." Dumbledore explained. "They value their client's secrecy almost as much as their property. I suspect your alternate form would trigger several of their traps."

"So, we try and steal from them?"

"That may work, but I only know of one such attempt ever working. Goblins have powerful magic and abilities that confound the magic of most thieves."

"Could we just ask them? I mean, they must be against Voldemort too, right?" Harry couldn't see why the goblins wouldn't just help them.

"I see a number of problems with that, Harry." Dumbledore had a contemplative look on his face. "We would not want the knowledge of Horcruxes to leave this room if possible. If Voldemort found out that we knew, claiming the remaining ones might become impossible. Even if I were still the Supreme Mugwump, the goblins would not necessarily take anything I said at face value. They have a great distain for wizards in general. The Ministry might be able to convince them, but even then goblins do not work for free. We may not have sufficient funds to convince them to part with something from their vaults - even if it might save them all."

"It would also be for naught if it turns out Voldemort didn't give a Horcrux to anyone but Malfoy, or if it wasn't stored in Gringots." Archer observed. "If we could confirm it either way, we could plan better. I don't know enough about this world or goblins to offer any meaningful advise beyond that."

"Goblins are Professor Binns' favorite subject. He might provide us with valuable insight." Harry groaned in response to Dumbledore's suggestion. Asking Professor Binns anything was practically impossible. The ghostly instructor didn't even answer questions during class. "We might benefit from taking some time to think about this problem and review our memories. Now I think I would like to get a little bit more sleep before the day truly begins."

"Yes sir, we'll be on our way." Harry got up to leave.

"Professor Archer? I don't suppose I could have a moment of your time to discuss...Rule Breaker was it?"

"That'd be fine." Archer nodded to Harry as he made his way down the stairs outside of the office. It was early still, but Harry didn't think he'd be able to get back to sleep after the morning he'd just had.

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After Harry had left the room, Dumbledore turned to the Heroic Spirit. "It's a shame you had to sacrifice your dagger to destroy the Horcrux. I would be quite interested in how an artifact like Rule Breaker worked. Negating magic like that is a truly remarkable phenomena."

"Don't worry about that, I can trace a new copy of it whenever I want. As far as Noble Phantasms go, Rule Breaker has a pretty low cost."

Dumbledore surmised the meaning of his professor's words by the context. "So you can make as many as you want?"

"Within reason. It's a strain to do lots of tracing, even with the prana supplied by Hogwarts."

"Could you make a copy for me to keep?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "A catch-all for magical removal that doesn't even require a counter-curse is a fascinating and powerful ability. I daresay if 'Finite Incantatem' was capable of undoing a Horcrux or the Imperious Curse, our lives would be much easier."

"Certainly." Another Rule Breaker appeared in Archer's hands. He placed it on the desk. "It will dissipate after a few hours."

"Oh? Is it constrained by the same limitations as magically created objects then?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. You see, the world doesn't like paradoxes. If something blatantly breaks the natural laws, the world does it's best to get everything on track again. Small things like rope or chairs are generally beneath it's notice. The prana that composes such objects naturally drains away with time, until the object itself can no longer be maintained. For something like this," Archer motioned at the wicked looking dagger. "It's nature is 'The dagger that symbolizes the witch of betrayal'. For it to exist apart from Medea runs counter to it's very essence."

"Could nothing be done then?"

"I suppose if prana was actively injected into it, that could stabilize it's presence, but only as long as the flow continued." Archer frowned. "That would be dangerous in a different fashion. As you saw, too much prana and the object will burst. Even overloading it to a much lesser extent would probably result in unpredictable behavior."

"Fascinating. How does it work?"

"As the representation of Medea's betrayal, it combines with her nature as a witch from the Age of Gods. It wouldn't be capable of severing the magic of someone of her level, but it can cleanly slice through the weaker magic of today."

"Perhaps that's why it had trouble with the Horcrux? Such magic is ancient and dark."

Archer brought his hand to his chin and nodded. "Yes. That might be the case."

"I take it that it is Medea's absolute betrayal in her pursuit of Jason that causes it to negate all magic, good or evil?"

"You have it exactly right. For someone like her who stole the Golden Fleece, violently chopped her brother into pieces, and scattered his remains behind them to slow down pursuit - it was her complete and utter turning of her back on the entirety of her life the causes Rule Breaker to sever any and all magical contracts and spells. Even those that would result in harm with their removal. No trace is allowed to remain, and thus no harm can befall it's target. That's why I thought it would be the perfect artifact to cleanly and easily remove the soul of Voldemort from Harry."

"I am glad you tried." Dumbledore gave a warm smile. "If it had been successful, then we would have been able to avoid my plan, which I admit is entirely too risky." Dumbledore's voice was filled with sadness. Dying at Voldemort's hand would be hard for anyone to do. It could save Harry though, at least that was the theory.

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With an inarticulate cry and a wordless spell, Voldemort blew apart a chair. All of their time and resources spent to corner Archer in London had been for naught. The wizard effortless killed every sacrificial monster, but his location still eluded them. Even some Death Eaters he'd sent out to do nothing but keep watch were killed. They weren't in their masks, but that didn't matter. Did he have some way of scrying along all of London? Had his followers just been careless? Voldemort didn't know, but he wasn't going to risk his elites in a confrontation. He'd lost too many followers already.

There'd have to be another way. He would strike at him from a distance. A curse that couldn't be defended against. Archer already had such a curse on him. The jinx he'd placed on the Defense position. It had been some of his finest work, persisting even after his 'death'. The emotion he'd used to fuel that spell had been great, but even it paled before his current rage. He'd strengthen the jinx. Sacrifices both magical and muggle would empower it to untold heights! There was more to the Dark Arts than anyone else knew. It was insidious and cunning. His spell would destroy his newest opponent from the inside without any possible counter-attack.


	7. Chapter 7

It was early October, and Archer was doing a mental review of his Master's class. Harry Potter himself was quite good at the dueling practice. In the free-for-alls he rallied his friends and lead admirably. In particular the boy seemed to have an iron will. It was allowing him to stay conscious long enough after being hit by a stunner to wash away some of the enchantment by circulating his od. Honestly it was more of a novelty than anything else since Archer didn't think that in a real fight he'd be attacked with non-lethal magic or that a Death Eater's spell would have the same amount of energy behind it as a teenager's. Still, it was good practice and would be helping his ability to multi-task. Harry's dreams continued to be about the Goblin bank, so Archer was convinced that was their next move.

At Harry's suggestion, they'd told Hermione. The girl had delivered him an essay on Goblins and their society. Goblin morals seemed to be very possessive in nature. They despised thieves, and elevated craftsmen. It was odd that they considered whomever created an object to be it's owner, and that anyone else could only 'rent' it. Archer had read the history of the Sword of Gryffindor, and now some of it's abilities made more sense. Goblin steel was a interesting substance. Archer thought that calling it a Conceptual Weapon wouldn't be too far off the mark. It was 'Greedy'. If the steel could absorb something that made it stronger, it did so. If not, it repelled it. His traced copies had proven quite valuable. It was possible to 'add' a weapon to the sword in the same way he'd placed Dhu al-Fiqar into Harry. The sword would absorb 'Concepts' easily, but in the end it was a shadow of a copy. It's 'Greedy' nature wouldn't allow for a concept with more power than the sword itself.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were the two best students in his class. Harry's friend was insatiable for knowledge. Her N.E.W.T. required reports on dark creatures were some of the most comprehensive documents he'd read. She'd make a fine textbook author, with the one flaw in that she'd probably run out of pages in the first chapter. Archer could tell she was a hard-worker. Her natural talents didn't lend themselves to Reinforcement, but her constant practice had paid off. She and Draco were the only two students who could add enough prana to damage an object, and they were also the only ones to be able to sense that limit. It was tempting to teach them Human Reinforcement. That technique was the pinnacle of the craft. Reinforcing your body was dangerous, but powerful. Most mages disdained it for it's high-risk and relatively low reward. Of course most mages didn't get into combat very often. Increasing your speed, power, and durability was what allowed a 3rd rate magic user to stand up to some of the true monsters in the world.

Of all the students, Draco had the most control. Archer surmised the Malfoy heir must have excellent quality magic circuits. The boy was quite attentive about the Heroic Servant's techniques. After almost every class, Draco would hang back to ask about details for how to use Reinforcement or what was possible to do with it. It was clear that Harry and Draco didn't get along. The Malfoys were well known supporters of Voldemort, and Draco's father had been sent to Azkaban. In the end, he was just a child and Archer wanted to save him. Heck, Archer had wanted to save Shinji, and his old classmate was a much worst person from a much darker family. Whatever the Malfoys had done, it didn't compare to the worm pit of the Matous.

Nights in London had become quiet. At the start of the term, there had been a sudden influx of dark creatures. Archer got the sense the Voldemort was testing his presence and trying to determine his whereabouts in the city. To counter this, Archer had been moving around. He always kept Diagon Alley within his sight, since that basically was the wizarding presence in London. Dumbledore had told him that Voldemort had been making attacks on wizards in the countryside. There didn't seem to be any reason for it aside from boosting the morale of his troops and weakening that of the magic-using public. Apparently Archer's actions had become infamous, and were being played up by the Ministry of Magic. The witch he'd saved at the start of summer was now Minister and she'd sent him several letters of thanks and formal request for a meeting in the hopes that the two of them could work together. Archer had replied that her thanks were unnecessary, and that he planned on keeping Voldemort out of Diagon Alley at night. The Heroic Spirit was limited to stopping obvious threats, but that seemed sufficient to bolster the morale of the public. It was ironic that a vigilante was being treated as a hero. Archer knew it would change after the war. He'd be vilified, but that didn't matter. He'd do whatever it took to save as many people as possible. If they condemned him for it - well, that was a price he'd paid in life. He was willing to pay it in death too.

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"What a prat!"

Harry wanted to disagree with Ron, but couldn't. Cormac McLaggen was a prat. "If it was just that he always talked, or if he was just smug, or if he just gave unsolicited advice to other players, or if he just had a bad temper...if it was only one of those I could stand him." Harry added his complaints to Ron's.

"Right? You lot had it easy though! I'm the git's backup keeper. He spent more than an hour going into detail about how much better than me he was."

"Maybe he'll mellow out?" Harry didn't have much hope for that though. McLaggen was arrogant, aggressive and self-righteous.

"Fat chance. He's even worse than Malfoy. If I'd just blocked that final shot..."

"I wish you were the keeper and McLaggen was off the team."

"You could do that y'know..." Ron nudged him then shook his head. "I'm just messing with ya man. Can you imagine having him as your backup? He'd drive me barney in a week!"

"I could just kick him out, but that's not being fair. I wanted people to be on the team by merit alone, but you're every bit as good as him. How about we have position try outs after every game? No one could complain about it then."

"People do get better over the season. Look at Galvin Gudgeon. Last season he fell off his broom in every game at the start, but by the end of it - it was just every other game." Harry didn't think that the Seeker from Ron's favorite Quidditch team really made the best example, but his friend had a point.

"I bet you'd be able to block a hundred shots in a row in the next tryouts!"

"A-A hundred? Uhm, yeah! Just leave it to me!" The slight shade of green that Ron had turned belied his words.

The two boys hiked back towards the castle. Quidditch practice had only taken 3 hours, but it felt like it had been days. Harry wondered what Wood would've done with a player like Cormac. "Probably not let him on the team in the first place." He mumbled. On the bright side, McLaggen's abrasive personality had brought him and Ron together again. Ron's mood had improved dramatically after their talk with Hagrid and Archer's revelations. The two of them continued to bond over their mutual dislike of their current Keeper. Ron and Hermione were being civil with each other, but Ron's distaste for their newest Defense Professor was still plain to see. Harry though that Ron might be jealous - thinking about how Hermione had acted around Lockhart.

The sun was setting, so Harry was surprised to see two of his teammates still outside. Ron had helped him put away the equipment, but it looked like they'd managed to catch up to Ginny and Dean. The pair were holding hands and walking slowly. The fiery haired girl's laugh rang out across the lawn.

"What's so funny, eh?" Ron scowled at the pair.

Ginny turned around at the noise. "Oh, Dean was just doing an impression of Cormac. It was hilarious! Do it for them Dean."

Dean's smile was bright against the surrounding darkness. In a deep-pitched voice he said: "Did I ever tell you about the time I caught the Quaffle and used it to score? Well, the opposing team had it's beaters out of position. So I threw the Quaffle at one of the Bludger's that was heading the other way. I got the angle just right and the Bludger shot the Quaffle through the other team's goal! I'm so awesome that I can defend and score at the same time!"

"Why would you want to talk about that git? Wasn't spending practice with him enough?" Ron was eyeing Dean and Ginny's hands. It was if he wanted to use sheer force of will to make them separate.

"Oh, like you weren't talking about him. I can't believe he made the team. If SOMEONE had blocked my shot, then we might not have to put up with him!" Ginny had moved to be in Ron's face - dragging a helpless Dean behind her.

"Well, if YOU had scored on him, then we wouldn't have him either!"

"Like it's hard to block just one person! Actually, for some people it probably is. I got past you well enough didn't I?"

"Hey, let's just take it easy." Harry tried to get between the two siblings.

"I would say you should just drop him Harry, but then we'd be left with my bone-head brother for Keeper." In an impressive display of a lack of maturity, Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron.

"Who you calling bone-head, you, you... trollop?"

"WHAT did you call me?" Ginny shrieked.

"Hey..." "Let's..." Harry and Dean's attempts to calm the duo down were drowned out.

"You heard me!"

"C'mon Dean. Let's go!" Ginny pulled Dean's arm as she turned and marched back to the Great Hall. The dark-skinned boy looked apologetically over his shoulder, and gave a small wave with his free hand.

"I can't believe her! If Fred and George were here, she'd never be acting so brazenly!"

"If Fred and George were here, McLaggen would be turned into a canary by now."

"Hey, that's a good point. You think Zonko's will have Canary Creams tomorrow?"

"Not unless Fred and George are selling to the competition just to cause havoc...so maybe?"

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking out of the Gryffindor common room on their way to Hogsmeade. Upon exiting the portal, Harry saw a translucent Archer waiting for him.

'What are you doing here?'

'I'm going to follow you to Hogsmeade.'

'What? Why?'

'A Servant is their Master's sword and shield. I would be a poor excuse for a Heroic Spirit if I let you wander around unprotected.'

Harry glared at his Defense Professor. He'd been looking forward to going to Hogsmeade and getting away from everyone for a bit. Archer returned his stare with a dispassionate gaze. 'Fine.'

'It's not like you could've stopped me in any case.' The unseen teacher had fallen into step behind the trio. 'You can still do whatever it is you were planning on. I'm sure I don't care one whit what teenagers do in their off-time.'

Harry believed that Archer meant what he said. That still didn't mean he was going to go on a date with the Servant hovering around him. Of course, Harry didn't have anyone to go on a date with. Ginny was with Dean, and he still wasn't talking to Cho Chang. The though of his love life's situation depressed Harry, and he let out a long-suffering sigh.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, nothing. Archer's following us."

"Professor Archer is here?" Hermione glanced around quickly. "He's etherial isn't he?" Harry nodded. "Well why doesn't he just come with us in person?"

Harry glanced up at his Servant. Archer shrugged rolled his eyes. The next moment the Heroic Spirit was in his physical form again. "I was trying to stay out of the way, but I suppose no one can fault a Professor from accompanying the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Right, well, let's go." If Ron was a little snappish, Harry and Hermione had decided not to notice. Harry had never had a family, but he could imagine how disconcerting having a little sister dating might be. Since it was Ginny, Harry was experiencing many of the same emotions as Ron.

The trip to Hogsmeade was rather uneventful. Hermione and Archer had talked about Goblins. Ron was off in his own world. Harry was worried about what he was going to do with the Quidditch team. "So Harry, had any more dreams lately?" Harry jerked at being suddenly pulled into the conversation.

"Er, no. It's just riding in mine cars, opening a vault, and finding a golden cup. Nothing really stands out." In truth, Harry had stopped using the Blade of Dreams every night. The Gringott's dream wasn't very exciting, and nothing changed with subsequent viewings. Archer made a non-committal sound.

"Harry! Harry!" Outside of Hogsmeade, two small students in Gryffindor robes came running up to the group. Harry recognized Colin Creevey and his brother, Dennis.

"Hi Colin. What's up?"

The excitable boy was flustered. "I came with my brother early since this is his first year to get to visit Hogsmeade. After we walked around for a bit, I noticed that my wand was missing! I went back to Hogwarts, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I think I dropped it somewhere. Do you think you could help?"

Harry looked around at his friends. "Sure Colin. Where did you go?"

"Let's see, we first went to Honeydukes, then we went to Dervish & Banges, then Spintwitches, then they turned us away from The Hog's Head, then we stopped by Zonko's, finally we went to The Three Broomsticks. That was when I noticed my wand was gone!"

"Did you have it this morning?" Hermione asked.

Colin sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Uhm...I don't remember. I was in a big rush!"

"It's my fault." Dennis spoke up. "I was so excited to come to Hogsmeade that I woke Colin up extra early. If I hadn't rushed him in the morning, or if I hadn't run all over the place, none of this would've happened." The young 3rd year student looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry. We'll help you find it. Right?" Harry looked at his friends.

"You got it mate! We'll find it in no time." Ron puffed out his chest.

"It could be anywhere though." Hermione had her head tilted. "It could be anywhere outside. I wouldn't want to start summoning wands. Can you imagine how rude it would be to try and summon a stranger's?"

"I'll check outside. Why don't all of you search inside?" After he spoke, Archer's form faded away. Harry saw his invisible Servant leap up onto the rooftops and start to look around.

"C'mon this'll be fun. You basically went to all the places we were planning on going, so we'll just look for your wand while we're there." Harry had lied a bit, they hadn't planned on covering as much of Hogsmeade that the Creeveys had. Dennis and Colin seemed to cheer up at his announcement though.

Honeydukes was packed as it normally was when Hogsmeade was invaded by underclassmen. Ron and Harry both bought extra-large sugar quills. There was no wand to be found, and the staff said they hadn't seen anything either. Dervish & Banges, Spintwitches, and Zonko's were all equally fruitless endeavors. Nobody had seen any lost wands floating around.

"Wotcher Harry!"

"Tonks!" The female auror was waving at them as she walked down the street. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been stationed here every since Minister Bones took charge." Tonk's hair was mousy brown and lank. Harry supposed she was still depressed over Sirius's death.

"Oh, I didn't know." Harry felt horrible. He hadn't been thinking about Sirius very much lately. Archer and the information about Voldemort's Horcruxes had distracted him. It was like he was doing a disservice to his God-Father by not mourning him enough.

"Hey, cheer up! What's got the lot of you down anyways?" The auror looked between Harry's now depressed posture, and the downcast expressions of Colin and Dennis. Her words belied her appearance though. Tonks must have a hard time at poker when her hair was more expressive than anyone else's face.

"We're looking for Colin's wand." Hermione explained. "He lost it, and we're backtracking everywhere he went to try and find it."

"That's a bummer. Tell ya what, I'll keep an eye out for it. I'll also let the other aurors in Hogsmeade know to be on the lookout for it too."

"There's other aurors here?"

"One of the first things the Minister Bones did was to increase our presence around the countryside. Hogsmeade is the second biggest wizarding population outside of London - and the Death Eaters are too scared to go anywhere near Diagon Alley these days."

"I've read about some of that in the Prophet. So it's true that Death Eaters have shown up dead in the morning?" Ron looked excited.

"The aurors patrol during the day, and the London Vigilante handles the night."

"A vigilante?" Hermione frowned. "That doesn't sound any better than You-Know-Who."

"The Ministry's policy is to leave him alone as long as he doesn't do more than take out people that are about to cause trouble. Everyone who's been killed has been in full Deatheater's robes and gathered outside a shop or a home or was revealed to have the Dark Mark."

"But still..."

"We also have no idea how it's being done. What few witnesses we've managed to find have said that glowing bolts fall from the sky and strike all of them dead at the same time. I've never heard of a spell with that much power and range."

"What about innocent people under the Imperious Curse?"

"That's the hard part." Tonks frowned. "It's easy to look at the results and call the Vigilante a hero. People in London aren't scared anymore. It's been months, and not a single reported Death Eater attack. His methods are brutal though. If we weren't at war, such actions would have him sent to Azkaban or have him suffer the Dementor's Kiss. As it is, he's probably saved far more lives than he's taken."

"That's not much consolation to his victims is it?" Hermione countered. "If one of my friends was being controlled, I'd be devastated if they were killed. It's just wrong!"

Tonks shook her head. "It's not like we have any say in the matter. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that rot, right?"

"I guess."

"Anyways, I hope you find your wand. I'll be sure to keep an eye peeled." Tonks gave small smile and a wave, and continued her patrol.

There was only one place left in Colin's list, so they made their way to the inn. At The Three Broomsticks, the group sat down to have some refreshments by mutual consent.

"So what will it be folks?" Madam Rosmerta came up to the group after they'd claimed a table. After a chorus of 'Butterbeer', she left to get the requested drinks.

Upon her return, Harry spoke up. "Excuse me, have you seen a wand lying around here?"

"Oh, did one of you lose their wand? Sorry, but no one's turned anything like that in. I haven't seen any laying around either. I supposed someone might've come across it and run off with it, but most wizards would've turned something like that over to me. Not much point in a wand you just find lying around. Odds are it's not going to work so well for you. Ollivanders makes their own, so you'd have to go to Knockturn Alley to sell something like that. Doesn't seem worth it to me."

"Oh, well thanks anyways."

"No problem sweetie." The owner of the pub gave the group a large smile and then went over to a table containing Draco and Crabbe to clear away some extra bottles. From the look of things Malfoy and his lackey had been in the pub for a while.

"Sorry Colin." Harry comforted the young boy. "I'm sure we'll find it in your room or something."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Colin managed a weak smile, but Harry could tell he was nervous about what he was going to do without his wand.

"How about we head back early? It's still more than an hour before dinner, we could probably find it before then!"

"Really?" Colin perked up. "Sorry about all of this Dennis. I wanted your first Hogsmeade weekend to be special!"

"Don't worry about it!" Dennis looked up at his older brother. "I had a lot of fun! Even if we didn't find your wand, tromping all over the place to look for it felt like a quest!"

"That's the spirit." Hermione exclaimed.

After they'd finished their drinks and headed back to Hogwarts, Archer landed beside them. "There was no sign of a wand in or around the village. We should keep our eyes open on the way back, but I'm betting it'll show up in the castle."

"Thank you for looking for it Professor!"

"You're welcome Creevey" The rest of the trip was made in silence, as everyone was on the lookout for the missing wand.

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Archer followed his young charges. He was feeling quite energetic. Something had changed in the past few weeks. His bond with Hogwarts had grown weaker. The ancient castle didn't seem to be providing him prana as quickly as it once had, and at the same time his Independent Action duration was reduced. Also the 'taste' of power he received was different. It was darker and more sinister than it had been at first. He had expected this little field-trip to tire him out, especially since he had just come back from a long night of keeping vigil in London. Strangely, the time he spent in Hogsmeade seemed to empower him. It was likely the presence of his Master. Hogwarts may be the anchor that held him to this world, but Harry was still the reason he was able to persist at all. Archer's paranoid mind discounted the possibility that his connection to Hogwarts was just weakening. The most likely cause was the jinx on the Defense posting. There was nothing he could do about that. He'd known the risks of binding himself to something that was cursed. They would just have to defeat Voldemort before it became an issue.

There hadn't been anyone else coming back from Hogsmeade. Dinner was still more than an hour away, and it would make sense for the vacation day to be stretched as long as possible. As they approached the large doors to the Great Hall, there was a deafening explosion and a burst of prana. Archer traced Kanshou and Bakuya just in time to deflect the doors that had been blown towards the group. The Servant was buffeted with a wind filled with the shrapnel of destroyed tables. Archer's eyes were able to make out the individual pieces flying from the dining area. Most were small. They wouldn't fly very far once the bubble of air's momentum died out. Unfortunately, given the size of the Great Hall, that wouldn't be for a while. Even though he knew he was able to dodge by turning etherial, the thought of doing so and leaving someone else to be buffeted in his place never crossed Archer's mind. With no other recourse, the Heroic spirit shouted "Duck!" and imposed his body between the doorway and the group of students.

"What was that?" Ron shouted after the wind had died down.

"A bomb?" Harry guessed.

"A muggle bomb wouldn't work here. Remember, Hogwarts: A History says that electricity doesn't work on the school's grounds. I suppose a chemical reaction might work. Something unstable... like nitroglycerin perhaps?" Hermione's hair had been blown back from the explosion. She was trying to pat it down as she talked, but with little success.

"That doesn't matter right now." Archer spoke to the students behind him without taking his sight from the doorway. "If anyone was in the Great Hall, they'd be in critical condition." The Servant poured od into his eyeballs. Human Reinforcement was always a risky endeavor. When a smidgeon of extra od could leave you permanently crippled, normal magi would stay far away from the upper limit. Archer was someone who put the situation and others above his own wellbeing. Such a stance and a lack of other options had allowed him to progress further down the path of enhancing his own body than any other mage. Even without his class ability of Clairvoyance, eyes were simple. Other body parts had blood, tendons, cartilage, bone or other such things. The human eye was essentially a sphere of water. Fluid was a natural prana conduit, so filling one's eyes with od was surprisingly easy. As he strengthened his eyesight, Archer could make out the wreckage in the Great Hall. Whatever had happened, it had utterly destroyed the Head Table. Pieces of it were strewn about. The rest of the tables were intact, aside from a slight coating sawdust and being thrown against the walls. He couldn't make out any movement aside from the settling debris. If this was an ambush, then evacuating the kids would be the best move. If it was an attack on the school, the attackers could still be inside and it would be best to find a safe place to leave his students before pursuing them. In either case, there might be wounded. "Draw your wands. I'm going in. If you hear me give you the all clear, then all of you follow me."

Archer circulated his od. If there was an ambush ready then it'd probably be a magus that attacked him. Holding both Kanshou and Bakuya increased his resistance to magic, but if someone had broken into Hogwarts they were probably a magic-user of great skill and power and thus would be able to overcome his resistance. There was no sign of anyone in the hall. The dust from the explosion would work against anyone who was trying to hide themselves. Unless they became immaterial like he did, Archer was certain he'd notice the change in where the sawdust collided with them. The room will still. Sounds echoed throughout the castle as people flocked to the Great Hall - drawn by the explosion. A flash of fire erupted from where the center of the blast had occurred. Archer took a defensive stance, but the fire faded to show Dumbledore standing where his place at the table had been. His phoenix Fawkes rested on his shoulder, and in his good hand he held his wand. "Archer, what just happened?"

"Headmaster. About half a minute ago, I was returning from Hogsmeade with some students. As we were approaching the Great Hall, there was an explosion. I haven't seen anyone else in the hall or fleeing through the front doors." Archer sniffed the air. There wasn't the smell of ozone or chemicals that usually accompanied a technology-based bomb. The prana hanging in the air from the burst he'd felt also suggested a magical attack of some kind.

"Indeed. I shall have the House Heads gather everyone in their common rooms. The first order of business is to ensure every student is accounted for, then we shall begin a sweep of the castle. The wards did not tell me of an intruder, but considering the circumstances it would be foolish to not confirm that fact with our own eyes. Would you be so kind as to go down to the gates? Tell Mr. Filch that he's to bring the list of students who left for Hogsmeade to my office. Keep those who arrive in the meantime within the gates, but no further. I do not foresee this taking a great deal of time, but keep them safe until the school is secured."

"Of course." Archer dismissed his twin blades and left the ruined hall. Outside Harry, Ron, Hermione, Colin, and Dennis were looking around nervously with their wands drawn.

"Is everything alright Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Thankfully, the Great Hall was empty at the time of the explosion." At least there weren't any bodies in the rubble. Archer supposed the perpetrator could've shielded themselves and caused the explosion in person.

"So what do we do now?" Ron spoke up.

"We're to head back to the main gates and make certain nobody else goes inside until Hogwarts has been secured." The small troop of children followed the Servant back to the gates. Archer wanted to do more, but protecting his Master and his friends, and ensuring no innocent students wandered into a potential battle-zone was a good use of his time. The timing was also too convenient. No bomb would just so happen to blow up as they approached. There must've been a trigger, a link between the explosion and their proximity. Following that logic, it only made sense that the target was one of the students in his group. Harry Potter was the most likely, but he couldn't rule out any of the others. He'd have to make sure to keep an eye out for any more attempts on their lives.

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Draco's hands shook as he tried to pour polyjuice from his cauldron into a vial. The explosion had been too soon! Too soon and too big! Professor Archer had warned him about how dangerous overloading magical objects were, but Draco never imagined a simple wand would produce a blast of that magnitude. It had been the perfect plan. Steal a wand, which was pathetically easy to do with polyjuice. Then rig it to explode - that hadn't been too hard in theory. In the Junk Room, Draco had practiced with charging potions. He was already skilled at Reinforcing mundane objects, Professor Archer said so himself. Potions were a bit trickier, but they were the only expendable magical objects he could get his hands on. Their explosions had been promising, but nowhere near the size of the one in the Great Hall right now. The Boil-Cure Potion's explosion wasn't much stronger than a punch. Wit-Sharpening Potions didn't do much better. Polyjuice was hard to make, but it's explosion was several times that of anything else. Draco didn't think it was lethal though. While it possessed more strength than the best confringo he could muster, betting that something like that could kill Dumbledore would have been foolish.

It also didn't help that potions had vastly erratic detonation times. With solid objects, Draco could feel the push back of Prana when they were about to burst. Potions always had too much give. He'd nearly lost a hand when he'd first started experimenting. The obvious solution was a wand. They were plentiful, magical, and easy to feel the prana inside because they were solid. Draco had been SURE the wand was on the brink, but that would take around 2 hours to explode. It would've taken out Dumbledore right at the feast. Wands were easy to hide too. A vial of a potion might be spotted by a House Elf, but a wand could be safely tucked away under the rug.

So why had it blown up? Creevey's wand had felt more...resistant to his od than other things. Had he pushed too much in? If the idea wasn't ridiculous, Draco would've sworn the wand was actively resisting him. It even felt like a small amount of prana alternately flowed into and out of the wand without any action on his part. Could it be the link between a wand and a wizard that daft fool Ollivander kept going on about? Draco certainly wasn't about to experiment with his own Hawthorn wand. The very thought of what would've happened if he'd been holding the make-shift bomb when it went off made his knees weak. He swore as he dropped the vial. If only Goyle's hands weren't so big and clumsy! Glancing around the room, he spied someone's used bathroom cup. Not the most sanitary of containers, but time was of the essence. He had planned for the polyjuice to wear off soon after he planted the wand. Now with the alarm raised, and Snape announcing that all students were to gather in the common room... Well, having two Dracos show up would be very suspicious. The potion splashed into the cup, and Draco added a hair he kept in a special bag. A quick Reinforcement increased it's potency and prolonged it's effect. Polyjuice was too valuable to waste. Holding his nose, Draco threw back the cup and choked down it's contents. Goyle-juice tasted horrible! Even worse than regular polyjuice. Thankfully, he was already transformed, and wouldn't have to go through that again.

Goyle's form trudged down the stairs to the Slytherin common room. There were a sparse amount of students there. Slytherins didn't fear the Dark Lord, so most of them felt perfectly safe going to Hogsmeade. Thankfully, that included both Blaise and Theodore, so Draco had his dorm room to himself. There were only about two dozen other students milling around the common room when he arrived - most of them 1st and 2nd years.

"Everyone line up." Snape glared at him. Draco kept his face calm, and lumbered over to his fellow Slytherins. "Undoubtedly you've heard the explosion. You're to stay here while the professors sweep the castle." Snape stalked down the line of students, looking each of them in the eye. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Draco answered with the rest of the housemates, as he raised his Occulmancy shields. Just like his Aunt Bellatrix had taught him, Draco focused on how much better he was than everyone else. No one was as smart. No one was as influential. As a Malfoy he naturally towered above them all. They weren't human. Others were just pawns to used to further his own ambition. Snape's eyes bored into his, but Draco dismissed him completely. A pawn's legilimency couldn't touch a king's mind.

"You may think that you may go out and do what you like. That is not the case." Snape drawled. "If I find anyone of you used a potion as a prank to cause the destruction in the common room, being Slytherin won't save you from MY wrath." Draco suppressed a sigh of relief that he hadn't tried using a potion. Not that a boiling cauldron exploding would be a valid assassination method, but Snape might think it was a prank gone bad. It was too bad those Weasley twins weren't around anymore. They'd have been the perfect scapegoats for this fiasco.

Snape's cloak swirled around him as he turned to depart. The only Slytherins remaining in the room regarded each other with a cool detachment. Great, now he was going to sit around and act like Goyle. What excuse could he use to go back to his room and get more potion if he was kept here until the duration ran out? By Merlin's beard, how could this day have gone any worse? Draco supposed he should be thankful he hadn't been blown up. Overloading magical objects wasn't something he was going to try again, that was for sure. Maybe he should've gone with the cursed item idea.


	8. Chapter 8

Archer walked into the Ministry of Magic. The current Minister was Amelia Bones - the witch he'd saved in the very first hour of his summoning. She'd been insistent on meeting her savior, but Archer had been too busy. Weapons weren't thanked, they just did their job. Time he spent indulging in the goodwill of others, was time that someone, somewhere might need his help. Now was different though. After the attack on Hogwarts, nowhere seemed safe from Voldemort's influence. He had to proceed with the destruction of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes and stop the war as soon as possible. That meant getting into the goblin bank - Gringotts.

The goblin nation was an odd combination of greed and honor. They wouldn't let anything they guarded be taken, no matter what. Archer wondered if they'd guard the Dark Lord's vault, if he had one. Certainly there were several proven Death Eaters that still had their Gringotts' vaults intact. The Ministry had tried to claim them, but to no avail. Still, the best way to get to the goblins was through the Ministry. The items and gold stored in vaults might be off limits, but the wizarding economy and the goblin's welfare were too closely intertwined. If anyone could gain him access to the goblins, it was the Ministry. Archer had a plan, but for it to work he needed to be able to personally visit the suspected vaults.

Flanking the doors were 4 red-robed aurors. At a table there were a pair of bored looking officials. "Please state your name and purpose of reason."

"My name is Archer and I have an appointment with Minister Bones."

"You must surrender your wand." The official on the right motioned to a small scale on the table.

Archer put his hand between his armor and his vestment and traced a copy of Harry's wand. "Here."

"Eleven inches...Holly...registered to...Archer. No last name." Archer gave a non-committal grunt. "You'll get it back when you exit."

The other Ministry worker raised an odd-looking magnifying glass. "No magical objects detected, dark or otherwise. We'll send word to the Minister's office. An auror will be here shortly to escort you."

Archer leaned against the wall while he waited. Was security always like this, or was it a result of the war? The bounded fields around the Ministry felt like those Hogwarts. Archer wondered about the logistics of restricting teleportation throughout the entire building. Surely, the aurors would have to have a means of responding quickly. They would also have to be able to support the Ministry's forces in case of an attack. Some kind of selective warding? His musings came to an end when a another magus wearing a red robe came walking down the corridor.

"Archer is it? My name is Williamson. I'll be escorting you to Minister Bones' office." Archer nodded, and followed the man. The walk was thankfully quiet, neither of them felt the need for small talk. In a large antechamber, there were several more aurors waiting for the pair. "You'll have to swear some vows to go past this point."

One of the aurors stepped forward and offered up his hand. Archer took it, while a second auror placed their wand above them. "Do you swear that you are not, nor have ever been in league with the Dark Lord known as Voldemort." Two of the aurors to the side twitched at the mention of the name.

"I do." A thin tongue of brilliant flame wrapped its way around their clasped hands.

"Do you swear that you mean no harm to the Ministry or the Minister herself?"

"I do." A second chain of fire appeared.

"Do you swear that you will present no falsehoods and tell no lies in your meeting?"

"I do." Archer was a bit concerned about that vow, but he supposed he could get away with declining to answer questions of a delicate nature. A third flame joined the other two, and the fire that had been swirling around their hands collapsed. Archer felt the Prana pressing against his skin and imbedding itself. It was volatile, and seemed poised to tear through his circuits.

With a nod, the two aurors to the side opened a pair of impressive looking doors, and motioned Archer through. Inside the office, the stern-faced witch he'd saved several months ago sat at a large desk. She was flanked by two more aurors. When Archer stepped through the doors, she stood and motioned to a chair. "Mr. Archer, I didn't catch your name when I saw you last. Please accept my thanks for your most timely rescue."

"There's no need to thank me. I was just doing what I wanted to, without any regard to the consequences."

A tight-lipped smile came to Amelia Bones' face. "Be that as it may, your actions benefited me considerably. I would be remise in not recognizing a life debt."

"If you help me with my Gringotts issue, I'll call it even." Archer smirked. Having someone be beholden to him due to his selfish desire to save people made him uncomfortable. Indulging in his heroics wasn't something that was to be praised. He didn't do what he did for accolades.

"Yes, of course. Though I suspect this is an issue that I'd volunteer my assistance in any case. I find it hard to imagine that Dumbledore would send a request to talk to you about something to do with Gringotts if You-Know-Who wasn't involved."

"That's precisely the case. We have reason to believe that a magical object that Voldemort stole in the past is being kept in one of his follower's vaults. Most likely Lestrange's."

"I'll make a formal request of the Goblin Nation, but you must realize Gringotts is quite zealous in their guarding of treasure. Goblin revolts have occurred when wizards of the past have tried to force them to hand over something in their possession."

"I don't need for them to hand it over. I simply wish to confirm it's location with my own two eyes."

Amelia's hand went to her chin. "That's a far more likely of a request to be granted, but the Goblins still might offer some resistance. Checking for stolen goods would be something they'd be open to, especially if all you want to do is confirm the item's location. I'm not certain they would let you into their deeper vaults even then. I'll send word immediately, and have some official documents drawn up. I'm afraid it will be up to you to convince them."

"I have an idea of something I can do to get on their good side. I hope it will be enough."

"There's one other matter I'd wish to discuss. It seems like quite the coincidence that the London Vigilante appeared around the same time you showed up and saved me. Now, I'm not going ask or speculate on if you're involved with those occurrences. Indeed, while the wizards that have been killed weren't tried or convicted, the fact that they were in and around Diagon Alley at night in Death Eater regalia makes most of their deaths a fairly open and shut case. However, vigilanteism isn't something that this Ministry has ever or will ever endorse. With the Dark Lord around, there's simply no time to try and hunt down most other criminals."

"I understand."

"Of course, if the vigilante was improving public morale, and keeping the Dark Lord out of the central part of the wizarding world... well, I couldn't comment on that." Amelia motioned, and Archer stood up to leave. "I'll have the documents waiting for you at the entrance. Oh, and on an un-related note. I hear you're doing good work at Hogwarts. Keep it up."

Archer bowed his head and left. The same auror escorted him back the way he'd come, and the official at the front desk returned his wand. The other official gave him a formal-looking scroll with a Ministry seal on it. Archer made his way to the Floo, and back to the Headmaster's office.

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Harry was relaxing in the common room when he felt the constant flow of prana to Archer suddenly shift directions. Supposedly with a better feel for prana flows, he should've been able to pinpoint his Servant's location at any given time. As it was, he couldn't discern distance or direction unless he was paying attention and they suddenly had a large change. He knew Archer was going to the Ministry in order secure their help in visiting Gringotts, so he'd been paying attention. Earlier, the direction of the prana link swiveled nearly 180 degrees. It had also felt "thinner". Just now it had changed back. That meant Archer must've returned.

'Did you get what you needed from the Ministry?'

'I did indeed. I'm about to head to Gringotts.'

'Can I come?'

'Such a troublesome Master, but I don't see why not. I would be quite the hypocrite to say a Master should just sit back and let their Servant do all the work.'

'Great. When are we leaving?'

'As soon as you get to Dumbledore's office. The password is Pop Rocks.'

"Archer just got back from the Ministry. I'm going to go with him to Gringotts."

Ron and Hermione looked up from their books. Homework just kept on piling up. "Geez you're lucky mate. Wish I could take a break and go to Diagon Alley."

"It's not like they're going shopping Ron. Harry, will still have to do his homework. In fact, he'll have less time to do it. You can borrow my notes when you get back. I should be done with the Transfiguration essay by then."

"Thanks Hermione!" The bushy-haired girl gave him a sweet smile as Harry bustled through the door.

On the way to the Headmaster's office, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned a corner and heard a loud crash. Two Slytherin first-year girls were standing in a hallway and one of them had dropped...a tea set? Why were two first years carrying a tea set through the halls? Harry decided it didn't matter. He rushed past them without slowing down. He would've stopped to help, but he was afraid Archer might leave without him. Voldemort was his responsibility. Harry wanted to be a part of tracking down his Horcruxes. In what felt like far too long of a time, Harry approached the Gargoyle outside of Dumbledore's office.

"Pop Rocks."

The Gargoyle stepped aside, and Harry made his way up the rotating stairs. At the top, the door to Dumbledore's office swung open at his approach. Inside, Archer had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot impatiently. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, and his blue eyes sparkled when Harry came rushing in.

"Good to see you Harry. I'm afraid Professor Archer is in a bit of a hurry."

"C'mon, let's go." Archer grabbed some floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the fire. The flames turned bright green, and the Heroic Spirit stepped inside saying: "The Leaky Cauldron!"

"Excuse me Headmaster." Harry grabbed some powder of his own and cried "The Leaky Cauldron" as he stepped into the flames. Upon exiting, Harry saw his teacher standing by the back door. Archer jerked his head and Harry rushed to keep up. Harry was surprised he hadn't noticed before, but Archer was carrying a long thin wooden box. "What's that for?"

"Just a little something to ease negotiations." Archer pointed at the brick wall. "Do you know how to get past this? I've never come to Diagon Alley this way before." Harry took out his wand and touched a specific brick. The wall twisted and rearranged itself to create an opening. The pair walked through it to the alley. Harry had to almost run to keep up with the longer strides of his Servant. Diagon Alley seemed just as lively as ever. There were a number of aurors standing around - easy to spot because of their bright red robes. Voldemort's return didn't seem to have effected the mood. Harry saw a discarded Daily Prophet with a headline of "Could the Boy-That-Lived be the London Vigilante?" Soon, Gringotts came into view.

The doors were flanked by goblins in red and gold uniforms, but there were also two wizards dressed like security guards. Harry was a bit surprised at their outfits, but the goblins had always been more modern in their choice of wardrobe. Each of the wizards held what looked like a golden car antenna. They stopped every visitor at the doors and waved their probity probes in front of them. Harry recalled having one of them used on him before the farce of a hearing Minister Fudge had started. Past the security, there was a small entrance hall. A pair of silver doors lead into Gringotts proper. The rhyme engraved on them warning would-be-thieves of the perils of trying to steal from the Goblins seemed particularly threatening today.

Upon entering, Harry heard a familiar voice. "'Arry! What are you doing 'ere?"

"Fleur?" The willowy witch came around a counter and embraced Harry. "Why are you at Gringotts?"

"Ah, I told you before 'Arry. Since Bill is working so 'ard, I have a part-time job here at Gringotts to help with my Eenglish."

"Oh, right. I remember."

"So what 'ave ze two of you come 'ere for?"

"We need to speak to a goblin about visiting a vault." Archer spoke up. "An older one, that we think contains stolen property."

"Oh, I know which of ze goblins you should speak to about zat. Follow me." Fleur spun around and motioned for them to follow here as she moved towards the back. They came to small office, in which was seated a particularly nasty looking goblin. "Zis is Gornuk. 'E is in charge of zeft and recovery."

The goblin looked up from a stack of paper. "What can I do for you Mr?"

"Archer. We have reason to suspect that an heirloom of some value that was stolen several years ago is currently residing in one of your vaults."

"Oh, do you now? Well, Gringotts isn't in the business of storing stolen property. Nor are we inclined to break the confidence of one of our patron's vaults."

Archer pulled out a scroll and handed it to the goblin. "The Ministry of Magic has supported our probable chain of custody. We would be most appreciative for your assistance on this matter."

Gornak grunted and opened the offered scroll. "Well, this looks to be in order. However, even for the Ministry we can't allow access to our deepest vaults. Even for stolen property."

"We just wish to verify that it's present with our own eyes. Any further action will be done outside of Gringotts." The goblin looked skeptical. "In order to confront the thief, we must be certain of our facts."

"A nice story, but then you'd also know of everything else in the vault! That would be unacceptable. Gringotts prides itself on both security and privacy."

Without a moment's pause, Archer continued. "What if I performed a service for the Goblin Nation? Would that be enough to persuade you to grant me access?"

The bureaucratic goblin snorted. "A service eh? It'd have to be something impressive. Something honorable."

"Would returning a Goblin-Made weapon that has been withheld from it's rightful owner's heirs for more than a millennium do?"

"Ha! Sure, if you could return a lost treasure of ours, we'd help you 'verifying' this stolen treasure of yours!" Gornak snorted. The goblin was trying with limited success to refrain from laughing.

Archer set the box he was carrying on the table. "Here you go."

Gornak eyed him warily, and slowly opened the wooden box. Harry craned his neck to see what was inside. "Oh my!" The goblin muttered. Resting in the box was a sword made out of silver and set with diamonds. Harry recognized it instantly. "Ragnuk the First's stolen blade!"

"No, that's the Sword of Gryffindor!" Harry turned an accusing glare to Archer. "How can you give him the sword! It's priceless! It belongs to Hogwarts! How did you even get it? It's not yours to give!" Questions and accusations flew from his mouth.

Archer glanced to his side. "What's more important? This or the vault? Mr. Gornak, do we have a deal?"

The goblin was intently scrutinizing the weapon. "This is goblin steel without a doubt! The description is perfect!" Looking at his visitors, he quickly shut the box. "I'll need to get a master appraiser to confirm, but yes. For this service to the Goblin Nation, we'll grant you access to as many vaults as you'd like to search for your stolen property!"

Gornak scurried away, but Harry's eyes were still boring into his Servant. "If it will make you feel any better, go ahead and hate me. We have to do what in necessary to protect everyone."

The pair waited in tense silence until the goblin came back flanked with four guards. "We'll escort you right away." The group of goblins lead the Master and Servant to a mine cart, and with the usual break-neck speed they were taken into the depths below the bank. After several twists, turns, and passing underneath a waterfall, the cart stopped. "Here is the Lestrange Vault." Gornak approached the door and traced a pattern on it with his finger. The inside of the vault came into view as the door melted away. Harry had never seen so much treasure before. The vault was huge and was filled to the brim with golden coins, ancient weapons and armor, and all sorts of magical items that looked far more extravagant than was strictly necessary.

Archer looked around. "That cup." The Servant walked over to where a golden goblet rested on a stand.

"Do not touch it. Every artifact in this room is cursed to anyone but the rightful vault owner."

"I just need to confirm something." Archer raised his hand, and in the air between him and the goblet a magical circle appeared. Harry recognized some of the runes from Sirius's book, but he had no idea as to their meaning. There was a pressure in his scar. It built and built, and then was suddenly gone. The circle vanished. "This is indeed the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, stolen from Hepzibah Smith in 1946 by Tom Marvolo Riddle." Archer turned and left the vault.

"So you confirmed that it is in the possession of the Lestranges. Our business is finished."

"Not quite. There was a 2nd stolen object. The Locket of Salazar Slytherin. It was not in the Lestrange vault. We shall need to be granted access to other vaults until we find it. That is what we agreed to, correct? A small price to get back such an ancient heirloom I would imagine." Archer's eyes were cold, and he wore a very unnerving smile.

"Y-Yes, of course. That was the arrangement."

"Good. How about we start with the Malfoy vault next?"

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It had been a productive day. Another piece of Voldemort's soul was gone. Archer didn't even feel that bad about consuming it. The Dark Lord's soul was a twisted and pathetic thing. Normally a magus would be able to resist a Servant's ability to consume souls, but after shredding his so many times - Voldemort's soul didn't put up much of a fight. Unlimited Blade Works had also acquired a number of minor magical swords and conceptual weapons. Nothing spectacular, but you never knew when a 'Dagger of House Elf Slaying' might come in handy. Ok, probably never, but it had a very low prana cost to trace. The Servant had also gotten a good look at the finances of the Death Eaters. Knowing the limits of your opponent's resources was vital in a drawn-out conflict. Archer wasn't going to let this war escalate to that point, but it was always good to plan for the worst.

"How could you?!" Once they were safely outside of Gringotts, Harry had planted himself in front of his Servant and demanded an answer.

"How could I what? Come one step closer to winning this war?"

"No! How could you just hand over the Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Who says I did?"

"What?"

"First of all, the Sword of Gryffindor will come to the aid of any Gryffindor in need who is showing courage. It's a powerful aspect of the blade itself. It's really quite inconsequential where it's located. If it's needed, then it will appear."

"Oh."

"Second of all, the Sword of Gryffindor is still safely stored in Dumbledore's office. I swear Master, you need more situational awareness. It was right on the wall as we left."

"Oh."

"Inside that box was just a Traced copy. A perfectly Traced copy, since I had the original to compare with as I made it. Without anyone maintaining it, and with the original already in the world, it's paradoxical nature will make it vanish soon enough. You'll notice I never said I was giving them the Sword of Gryffindor. If they got that impression... Well, I suppose I have my impulsive Master to thank for that."

Harry pointed a finger at him. "You planned this!"

"Did I? In any case, you have class tomorrow and I'm sure you have lots of homework that needs doing. Let's hurry back. Remember you have dreams to dream tonight."

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Being a backup keeper wasn't good enough. If he was going to impress Hermione he'd have to do better. Ron thought about his options. Professor Archer had mentioned Human Reinforcement. Magic wasn't allowed in Quidditch, but perhaps there was a better way to train using it? It wasn't like he had anything to lose talking the his teacher. As much as the man's presence goaded him, Ron had to admit he wasn't like Lockhart at all. Still, the way Hermione went on about him got on Ron's last nerve. Od this, prana that, Ancient Runes in every other sentence. Whatever. He'd bite the bullet.

"Harry, I'll catch up with ya at lunch. I wanna ask Professor Archer something."

Harry gave him an odd look, but just shrugged and said: "Sure thing Ron."

Archer was in his customary position with his feet crossed on top of his table. "Mr. Weasley, can I help you with something?"

Ron looked at his feet. "Well, I uhm, I was wondering if there was a way to use Human Reinforcement to help with practicing something? To improve muscle memory or something."

"Reinforcement is quite versatile, but I would be remiss if I suggested using it for something like that. I'm not certain you should even be attempting it yet. A little too much power and your body could break apart from the stress. Is this for Quidditch?"

"Yeah."

"I might be able to help. I have some free time after dinner before night falls. Come by my office and we'll see what we can do."

"Really?" Ron perked up. He was looking for pointers on how to improve his technique. Actual training would be ten times better!

"Oh, and see if you can bring some friends. The idea I have in mind will work better with multiple people."

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Dinner in the Great Hall had only just begun when Archer heard a knock at his office's door. Being a Servant he didn't need to eat. It could be pleasurable, but his body only required it as a way to restore prana. A fairly inefficient way at that. Hogwarts provided enough energy that he could devote his time to other matters. Winning the war, protecting London, and teaching the children were all far more important than indulging in the food provided. Archer did wish that he could cook some in his free time, but the House Elves were quite territorial of their kitchen. In the free time that he had between his other duties, Archer had essays to grade. It did help him learn more about the world, but honestly it was incredibly boring. When he opened the door, he found an eager looking Ron Weasley accompanied by his Master and their female friend: Hermione Granger.

"Yes?"

"You said to stop by your office after dinner."

"I had assumed you were going to take longer to eat than that, but we can start now. Let's go to the Defense classroom." The trio followed him to the empty classroom.

Once inside, Ron spoke up. "So what kind of training is it going to be."

"I want you all to fan out and shoot as many spells as quickly as you can at me."

"Are you sure Professor?"

"Yes, Ms. Granger. It'll be alright. This shouldn't be a very hard exercise. I am expecting Ron to do it as well."

"Eh?"

"Start casting whenever you're ready." In his hand, Archer Traced Monoshoshi Zao. It was an odd sword in that it was nearly 5 feet long. It's title translated to 'The Laundry-Drying Pole' - a derogatory nickname because of the absurd length of the sword. The actual name of the blade was 'Bitchu Aoe', but the nickname fit it better in Archer's opinion. It had been wielded by Kojirou Sasaki - or at least the wraith of a swordsman of surpassing skill who'd been summoned as the 'Closest Fit' for the imaginary warrior. "This sword belonged to one of the most skilled swordsmen of all time. He tried to perfect his skills by striking down a swallow in flight."

"That's cruel!"

"Perhaps, but the swallows were more than a match for him. For countless years he had to practice suppressing his presence to have the birds even fly close to him. Swallows are capable of reading the wind, and of sudden and dramatic turns in mid-air. If you swung a sword at one, it would sense it and alter it's trajectory."

"Like a snitch."

"Yes Master. Only by his years of practice did Sasaki ever achieve his goal. Since that technique surpasses human ability, I have no expectations that you'll be able to achieve it in such a short time Mr. Weasley. However, if you can grasp the image of the wielder of this blade by even a small amount, then you're reflexes will improve dramatically. Now, attack me."

Archer fell into the state demanded by the sword. He was at peace, the weapon held loosely at his side. The casual stance was he result of 'the heart of clear water'. In order to Trace a weapon, Archer had to know of it's years of accumulated experience. Unlimited Blade Works held every aspect of the blade inside of it, this included every single swing. For a Faker like Archer, this meant that he could duplicate the techniques of the wielders of his swords. The information was there, you just had to reach out and touch it.

A red blast was cleanly bisected by the tip of his sword. The movement continued and another jinx was cleaved in two. From the three mages surrounding him, spell after spell was cast. Every magical blast was swept aside with a supernatural grace. These were weak spells, the magic of children. They could not stand up to a legendary blade. Their speed was adequate, but nothing phenomenal. Their trajectory was lacking. Swallows could dart around the air, flit from one direction to another in a heartbeat. These spells only went in a straight line. His cool and collected heart wasn't required to predict their path. Even the weaker spells with no visible effect were cut through. Reading their Mana disruption was the same as reading the beating wings of a swallow.

The spells were beginning to come less frequently. His pupils must be growing tired. "Enough." Practice was over. Archer eased out of Assassin's mindset. Copying other people's techniques along with their weapons was a useful skill. Just as the Noble Phantasms he created were a rank below their original, so too were his copied skills. Archer knew that somehow Assassin would've made his little performance look even more effortless.

"That was amazing!"

"How, how did you do that?" The young Weasley was staring at the sword.

"I copied the ability of the original wielder of the sword. In terms of pure skill, Kojirou Sasaki was the greatest swordsman I've ever crossed blades with."

"I didn't even see the sword move. The spells just... vanished when they got within five feet of you." Hermione said.

Harry had a slight scowl on his face. "Are swords your answer to everything?"

"Not everything, but I find most problems can be solved with the right one."

"Is that what you're going to teach me to do?" Ron's expression was a mixture of disbelief, excitement, and awe.

"Hardly. Even mimicking his style would take you decades in the best conditions. I'm hoping that you'll be able to get enough of a feeling from the sword to block a spell mid-air. We'll work from there. If you can gain even a fraction of Sasaki's skill as your own, blocking the goals in a sports game should be simple."

"Right! Let's do this!"

Archer handed the absurdly long sword over. At least it wasn't quite taller than the boy was. "Master, Ms. Granger, rest for now. I'll start Mr. Weasley on something easier than blocking magic." Ron was holding the sword with both hands. His balance was atrocious, and his form didn't match Sasaki's at all. "Relax. Feel the prana of the sword. Try and move by instinct." Ron nodded, and Archer projected a hollow rubber ball in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, it went sailing at Ron... and hit him square in the face. "Hmmmm..." Archer made larger balls, and began throwing them softer. Once they got to beach-ball size, Ron managed to bat them away, sometimes. He fell more than he stayed standing, and Archer stopped the practice for fear the Gryffindor would wound himself with the unwieldily blade.

"This isn't working at all." Ron panted.

"Yes, I can see that." Archer drolly remarked. "Let's try a sword that's ability is more inherit in the weapon than the wielder. It won't be as effective in terms of skill, but practicing with it should help your reflexes and situational awareness just the same." A sword with a golden hilt and a pure-white blade appeared in the Servant's hands. "Here."

Ron hesitantly picked up the new weapon, and gave it a few swings. "Now this is a real sword!"

"Is it famous?" Hermione was looking at the blade. "I can't recognize the metal. It doesn't look like either platinum or silver."

"That is Ascalon, The Blessed Sword By Which Force is Slain. It's the famous sword of Saint George, used to slay a dragon. It was crafted by the witch who raised him, and is made of magical alloys."

"Cool!"

"It's strength isn't it's durability or sharpness. Rather, it's the sword's capacity to defend against attacks that makes it unique."

"Right! Let's try it!" At least Ron's enthusiasm had returned.

Archer started off with rubber balls like before. This time the sword in the backup-keeper's hands intersected each one in mid-air. Archer increased his barrage, but Ascalon didn't allow it's wielder to be hit. "Are you getting a feeling for it?"

"Yeah, I think I am. The sword just kinda swung by itself at first, but now I can see the balls and predict where it's going to hit them."

"Good. Now let's increase the volume of projectiles. Master, Ms. Granger, if you'd be so kind?"

At the end of practice, Ron was sweating with a huge smile. Harry and Hermione looked worn out from their spellwork, but none the worse for wear.

"That will brilliant! I could see the spells! Even the one's that weren't visible, somehow I could sense which way Ascalon would move to intercept them. Give me the other sword, I want to try with it again!" Ron seemed to be in an adrenaline rush.

"No, that's enough for today. I am interested to see how you're reflexes will improve with continued use of Ascalon, but I suspect you'll be sorely disappointed in how you do without it for now. A few hours aren't enough to make a significant improvement after all. Keep training and your reflexes will improve."

Ron held Ascalon to his chest. "I don't suppose I could keep it could I? I mean, it'd be a hassle for you to make a new one for me every time I wanted to practice right?"

"Handing out swords to students isn't exactly what a good teacher does, but Ascalon does have limited offensive capabilities due to it's nature. Even a regular sword would be a bit much though..." Ron looked crestfallen. "Tell you what. You can keep it, but you cannot take it to class. The only time you can unsheathe it is practice." Archer Traced Ascalon's sheath and tossed it to Ron. "If I hear you've been acting irresponsibly, I'll dissolve it, and you won't be getting another." Ron shook his head back and forth. Archer thought about Rule Breaker. He could still feel the dagger's presence. Dumbledore was proving quite skilled in maintaining the Noble Phantasm. "Now, it'll disappear on it's own in time. You can delay it by giving it a little bit of od to counteract the entropy, but not too much!" Ron was nodding eagerly. Archer made a mental note to keep track of Ascalon's condition at all times. He had to be ready to force it to dissipate at a moment's notice if he ever felt it was getting too much prana pushed into it. Ron had quite a lot of large capacity circuits, but they were of low quality. The boy's control was severely lacking. If Ascalon broke, the room it was in would be destroyed along with it.

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That night, Harry had a dream. It was the first prophetic dream since their trip to Gringotts. In it, Harry was walking down Diagon Alley. There was something important ahead. Something at the bank that he needed to see. The crowd around him was strangely still. Everyone stood off to the side. Harry could feel their gazes follow him as he made his way down the street. Somehow it didn't seem strange. It was more like everyone around was expecting the same thing he was. Harry just wished he knew that it was. At Gringotts, instead of the usual poem warning away thieves that was engraved in the silver doors of the small entrance hall, Harry found something else:

When the sun has set on the promised land,  
The son of Slytherin will confront the son of Arthur.  
The son of Emiya's gift shall be released with it's name.  
That name will promise victory like the rising sun: *******

Harry sighed. Another prophecy. At least he was the only one to see this one. No Department of Mysteries, no Professor Trelawney, no fighting over some words. The doors that led inside the bank were closed, and Harry knew they were locked. This inscription was the reason for the dream.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to figure it out myself." Harry grumbled.

'When the sun has set on the promised land.' Seemed fairly straightforward. Setting the tone. Something bad was going to happen. Great. It might be literal though, something happening at nighttime or at dusk.

'The son of Slytherin will confront the son of Arthur.' The son of Slytherin would have to be Voldemort. Though Slytherin could be the house, not the founder. If it was referring to the Heir of Slytherin, that was Tom Riddle. One could also argue that it could be Ginny or Harry, both of them had opened the Chamber of Secrets. It might even be Draco, he was a member of that House. The arrogant prat hadn't been acting like himself recently. Harry wondered if he was up to something. There was only one Arthur that Harry knew, but he had a lot of sons: Ron, Percy, Charlie, William, Fred and George. There was also King Arthur. Archer had said he'd met the legendary figure. Didn't Hermione mention he had a son? Mordred, if Harry remembered correctly.

'The son of Emiya's gift shall be released with it's name.' That sounded like a Noble Phantasm, their power was released with their names. Harry was certain he knew only one Emiya. The strange name belonged to the red-headed boy in his dreams: Shirou Emiya. Huh, red hair and a wizard - he was from a different universe and couldn't be a Weasley. Strange hair colors must coincide with magical power. There was the blue haired boy from his first dream. Hermione's hair was unnaturally bushy. Snape's hair was strangely greasy. Even his own hair was abnormal in it's refusal to be combed or cut. So what gift could Shirou have given? There was only one person who could've received it, but it seemed unlikely that Archer and Shirou were ever on good enough terms to exchange presents.

'That name will promise victory like the rising sun.' Geez, another pointless line with more references to the sun. At least it was a good line, pretty positive. There was some faint writing to the side. It was hard to make out, but Harry was pretty sure it was 'Ascalon'. Wasn't that the sword Archer had just given Ron? Why would the dream be referencing that? There was a reason Harry disliked prophecies. Why couldn't they ever be straight-forward and simple?


	9. Chapter 9

Ron was in love with Ascalon. The sword was just so amazing. When he had it in his hands, it almost moved as if it had a mind of it's own. He had made certain it wasn't actually sentient though. Never trust anything that can think for itself when you can't see where it keeps it's brain - to quote his father. After the incident with Ginny their 2nd year, Ron had taken his Dad's advice. Just to be certain, he'd consciously let one of Harry's jinxes through. Ascalon hadn't budged an inch in his hand. The sword wanted to protect him, but it was more like an instinct than a rational thought.

The sensation of noticing every attack aimed at you combined with the gut feeling and reaction time to intercept it was a rush. Whenever Harry or Hermione had free time, he got them to practice casting spells at him. It was easy to argue that it was good to have a target to practice silent magic at. Professor Archer might be teaching them cool stuff, but the Heroic Spirit completely ignored wands and spells. Without his common and effortless uses of wandless magic, someone might have though the newest Defense Professor was a Squib. He never even gave any lectures about Dark Creatures or spells. Did he even have a wand?

Ron wished he could carry the sword with him everywhere, but the threat of losing it was enough to ensure he wouldn't break his agreement with Archer. He was noticing more things lately, and his keeper skills had improved already. It was nothing compared to when he wielded Ascalon though. The slight melancholy he felt evaporated as he approached the pitch. Today was the first match of the season - Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. While playing Quidditch was better than watching Quidditch, both beat pretty much every other activity by a mile. The stands were already packed. He and Hermione wished Harry good luck before parting ways to find seats. In what seemed like no time at all, the match had began. Draco wasn't with the Slytherin team. Had the git gotten sick or something?

"And the match has begun. The Gryffindors and the Slytherins really look intense today. Personally I don't think they've been drinking enough Pumpkin Juice. The Slytherin Keeper in particular looks constipated." From the announcer's booth, a familiar female voice rang out.

"Oh! Luna's commenting!" Hermione smiled excitedly. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Ron had to expend a great deal of willpower to avoid rolling his eyes. "Yeah, it's great."

"I must say, the clouds today are particularly nice. I mean, look how fluffy they are. I think that one looks like a rabbit. Kinda big for a rabbit, it might be a Burgling Hopskipper in disguise. Smaller ones like to hide as rabbits, while bigger ones go to Australia to become Potion Masters. Their pouch is the perfect thing for brewing all sorts of useful concoctions. Why, when I was younger..."

The Ravenclaw's commentary was cut-off by McGonagall's voice. "That's two goals for Slytherin, putting the total to 20 to 0."

"Oh yes Ms. McGonagall, that's quite right. The Gryffindor who's supposed to be guarding the hoops seems to be yelling something fierce. I bet he has a nasty case of Wrackspurts. I mean, you'd think the Keeper would be guarding the goals right?"

Indeed, McLaggen had abandoned his post seconds into the match to tell Jimmy Peakes the right way to hold his bat. Ron groaned out loud as Slytherin scored twice against Gryffindor's undefended goal.

"The Wracksprurts seem to have him quite agitated. I bet he has so many of them that they've set up a nest. Having a nest of Wrackspurts in your head isn't any fun. Well, it can be fun, but you're not thinking straight, are you? Most people find Wrackspurts to be quite annoying, but there are some who don't like to think. The way he's yelling at people is very indicative. Only a massive infestation of Wrackspurts could account for that behavior. Or a Dabberblimp. It might've been attracted to all the Wrackspurts. What do you think Professor?"

"I think you should inform the audience that the score is now 50 to 0 in favor or Slytherin."

"It is? I thought I'd imagined that."

"It does seem rather unbelievable."

Ron mumbled as he shook his head. He couldn't believe he was agreeing with Loopy Luna, but he commentary was making a surprising amount of sense. What was that idiot doing? How'd he lose the Keeper position to someone that hadn't spent a minute guarding the goals? What was he thinking? Why didn't he immediately go back to defense the first time Slytherin scored on them? Why would a Keeper abandon the goals in the first place?

"Oh my, the Gryffindors seem to have some kind of disagreement over the ownership of one of their bats. That Wrackspurt-infested fellow took it from that other boy. Odd that."

"That would be Cormac McLaggen, who's taken Beater Jimmy Peak's bat. Slytherin has also scored again."

"Oh you're right Professor McGonagall! Do you think that's why he hasn't blocked a single shot? Because he didn't have a bat? I suppose it would give him extra reach, but isn't it normally for Bludgers?"

"Striking the Quaffle with a Beater's Bat is a Bat-Brained foul. It's not allowed."

"Well you look at that! The Bunny Rabbit Cloud has grown wings! Probably not a Burgling Hopskipper after all."

"Ms Lovegood, please keep your comments focused on the match."

"Sorry Professor. Harry looks upset. I imagine it was because of that Bludger the Keeper hit. It nearly took his head off!"

"Also, Slytherin scored again."

"Oh? They did? There's a gathering on the field. The Gryffindors seem to be talking about something. I hope all that yelling doesn't agitate the Wrackspurts. That might cause them to swarm."

"It seems that Cormac McLaggen is being withdrawn from the game. He won't have a replacement, so Gryffindor is going to play the rest of the match without a Keeper."

"So it'll be just like the beginning of the match?"

"...Yes Luna."

Ron couldn't believe it. Was Cormac insane? Was he Imperiused into making sure Gryffindor lost? Was he just THAT big of a git? The rest of the match went by in a blur. Harry caught the Golden Snitch after only 15 minutes, but Gryffindor had only scored once during that time. The Chasers and Beaters were focused on defense, so that made sense. Unfortunately, the match went to Slytherin. 270 to 160. It'd take a miracle for them to win the House Cup now. With no competition, Ron would be keeper for the final three matches. It didn't make him very good after the spectacle he'd just witnessed. Ron decided he'd keep training with Ascalon. To improve his skills as a keeper of course. They needed every point they could get for the rest of the season. Being a badass knight with a magical sword was just a bonus.

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Dumbledore was quite impressed with Archer. The Counter-Guardian had found and destroyed two Horcruxes in a phenomenally short amount of time. The dreams that young Harry had been having were quite useful. The latest dream had been about a young Tom Riddle, and his torturing of his fellow orphans in a cave. Normally dreams were half-remembered things, and unsuitable for a pensieve. Harry's dream was different. It was as if the dream was taken from Voldemort's own mind. In a sense, that might have been the truth. It was hard to predict what being turned into a vessel for the Dark Lord's soul would do to someone. With the details from the dream, his own research onto where Tom Riddle had grown up, and places he could've visited, Dumbledore was confident he'd found the next Horcrux's hiding place. The cave in the dream was now magically hidden, and powerful wards surrounded it.

Archer had wished to wait until the weekend. He was adamant about guarding London every night, and Harry and his schedules were too busy during the week for such a dangerous task. Dumbledore had seen the wisdom in his choice. Severus had to keep up appearances and report his movements. In addition, Draco would hardly notice his rival and the Defense Professor's absence on the same day. No, Voldemort must be given no clue as to their actions. It was a Hogsmeade weekend too. It would provide Harry the perfect cover for leaving the school grounds.

Dumbledore opened his hidden desk drawer and removed the item he kept stored there. The evil-looking dagger glittered in his hand. Maintaining Rule Breaker took some finesse. Even with his considerable skill, he could sense the dagger of the Witch of Betrayal diminishing every day. Should he use it? Dumbledore had made peace with the thought of his own death. Rule Breaker was like a God-send. If its overcharged form could negate the darkest of magics, its regular form might save him from the curse he'd foolishly acquired. If what Archer said was true, it would negate all magic. The magic of being recognized as Hogwart's Headmaster. The magic of Gringotts that linked him to his vault. The magic associated with the Dumbledore family. Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, none of these were worth his life. In fact, being freed of such power and responsibilities would come a great relief.

The potential of those magics to aid the war, and help defeat Voldemort once and for all was too great. That was worth more than his life. As long as he could wield that power against the Dark Lord he would. Perhaps Rule Breaker was a taunt from the devil, meant to stir up feelings of hope that could never be. At the very least, it might save Severus - free him from the Dark Mark and his unbreakable vow. Once again, that couldn't happen until Voldemort fell. The vow might force their hands before the magical dagger could have any effect. Severus's life was worth more than his own, on many levels. He wouldn't have him die at the hands of the vow. If it came down to it, Dumbledore would rather have Severus kill him than the alternative. That left Draco. The youngest Malfoy wasn't evil. To force him to kill was inhumane. It was nothing more than a cruel phycological punishment by Voldemort. Draco wouldn't be able to accomplish his mission, the stress would break him. Then Severus had made the vow. Did Voldemort anticipate that? Could he be doubting his spy's loyalty? Certainly, if Snape was able to kill 'the only wizard Voldemort ever feared', then his 'loyalty' to the Dark Lord would be proven without a doubt. Severus was the greatest weapon the Order had against Voldemort. Killing him, or removing his mark would result in how many other innocent deaths? By that same token, would murder be the only way Voldemort would continue to trust Snape?

Dumbledore returned the wickedly curved dagger to his hidden drawer. All his worrying might be moot. Voldemort might fall before Draco was successful, or forced into more drastic action. Once the Horcrux in the cave was no more, all that remained would be Nagini and Harry. The snake would be well-protected, but not invulnerable. Harry...Harry would be harder. If he was right, then the only way for Harry to live and cease being a Horcrux would be for him to die at Voldemort's hand. The bond the Dark Lord had mistakenly strengthened by using of Harry's blood for his rebirth would tether the boy's spirit. It was risky, but Dumbledore could see no other options. With Archer around, the sacrificial protection might not be needed. Could he tell Harry to let himself be killed? That it wouldn't result in his actual death?

There were no easy answers for aging wizard.

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The vast underground lake was lit with an unearthly green glow. Archer reinforced his eyes and gazed out into the darkness. There in the middle of the lake, a good distance away, was a smooth stone island. A pedestal rested on it, and the eerie glow came from within it.

'Did you find anything?'

'Yes my impatient Master. There is a large cavern past the anteroom. It's the northern wall as Dumbledore suspected.'

'I'll tell him.'

'There's a large lake in here, filled with corpses. In the middle there's a small island with a basin. A green glow is coming from within. I'm going to investigate.'

'Be careful. Dumbledore says they're probably Inferi, and they'll reanimate at a trigger.'

'Really? I wouldn't have guessed that. You truly offer the most useful of advise Master.'

Archer had materialized to enhance his eyesight. His etherial body had allowed him to pass through the seemingly solid stone wall, while Harry and the Headmaster searched for a way through. Mainly Dumbledore. Archer couldn't see Harry gaining access to this room by himself, Counter-Force backing or not. Archer bent his knees and leapt with the precise amount of force needed to clear the water. As soon as he left the rocky walkway the pale bodies within the water breached the surface. The dead bodies were forced out of the water in a swift lunge. At the same time, the air around Archer seemed to grow thicker. The further over the water the went, the more his forward momentum was reduced. The pale, grasping hands of the dead missed him as he turned etherial. His form ghosted over the water, and Archer restored his material body right as he reached the center island.

Behind him the animated bodies suck back down into the dark liquid. The ripples on the water ceased to be after a moment, returning the lake to it's glassy blackness. The stone basin before him contained a glowing green liquid. Archer had never been the most skilled magus in life. His talents were more exotic than most. The Heroic Spirit had always possessed a good nose for wards and stationary magic. Something that was unrelated to swords, but still an unmistakable skill of Shirou Emiya. The liquid itself was a bounded field. Archer couldn't tell much about it, anything on the inside was effectively blocked from his senses. He pushed the bowl containing the glowing fluid so it tilted, but none spilled out. It drained away as gravity demanded, but upon passing the lip of it's container, it vanished. Archer removed his hand, and the basin righted itself. The liquid was back at full capacity, as if nothing had happened to it.

Whatever the nature of the bound field was, it was tied to the stone pedestal. Archer briefly considered shattering the bowl, or attacking the bounded field itself, but dismissed the though. It was as Dumbledore had said. Voldemort had made it possible for him to remove his own Horcrux, but others would face dire peril. In bypassing the obstacles in their intended fashion, the Dark Lord wouldn't be notified. At least, it was far more likely that destroying his magical fields would attract his attention.

'The corpses reacted when I moved over the water, and a spell tried to impede my movement. I don't think I'll be able to carry the two of you across like I did to get inside the crevasse.'

'That's alright. Dumbledore has figured out how to open the door, we're about to come through.'

'Good. Wait for me there, I'll be back shortly.'

Archer resumed his spiritual body, and walked back across the lake. Peering down, he could see hundreds of the dead acting as guardians. The bodies looked suspiciously well-preserved. Voldemort hadn't been content with robbing a graveyard. He'd gone out and gotten fresh bodies to guard the piece of his soul. It was a shame he couldn't augment his vision while etherial. Knowing just how many of these things awaited them might come in handy. From across the water, two points of light appeared. Even without his improved eyes, Archer could see Harry and Dumbledore holding aloft their shining wands.

"There's magic to prevent flight over the water. We'll have to find another way for the two of you to cross." Archer spoke as he materialized.

"Let us look for it then. Voldemort would've left a way for himself to return." Dumbledore set off around the water's edge. His brisk pace belied his age.

Once again in a material form with it's improved eyesight, Archer noticed something... off at a spot by the shore. Dumbledore seemed to sense something as well. The old wizard waved his wand and drew ashore a boat from the depths that was attached to an invisible chain.

"Is that safe?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't he trap the ship he left."

"Indeed. There are enchantments on the boat. It will capsize with more than one occupant. I think we shall be alright. Professor Archer does not need the boat, and Harry can ride with me." Dumbledore saw the confused look on Harry's face and continued. "Tom didn't think to ward the boat for underage wizards. Just as he thought that physical pain would weaken any trespassers, or that darkness and corpses would scare thieves away. Voldemort ignores the things he doesn't see as threats. In his arrogance, he's created many flaws we can exploit."

"Don't worry, I can save you from the water." Archer tried to reassure his Master, with limited success.

With a bit of hesitation, Harry boarded alongside the Headmaster. Archer kept pace with them, and soon they came upon the island and it's glowing potion. Harry seemed unnerved by the bodies he saw in the water, but it would've been stranger if he hadn't. At the pedestal, Dumbledore examined the liquid. After waving his wand, and mumbling words for a minute, the old man turned to his companions. "I think Archer was correct. This liquid does indeed hide a Horcrux."

"But how do we get past it?" Harry asked.

"The potion cannot be altered in any fashion. Any attempts to vanish, spill, or otherwise dispose of it will result in the liquid returning to the basin. If we shattered the pillar, the damage will be reflected in the cavern itself. The intended way to obtain the Horcrux seems to be drinking the potion. Since that is the route least likely to alert Voldemort to our actions, I will consume it."

"What?"

"No, I'll do it!" Harry volunteered.

"Of the three of us, I may not be the oldest, but I am the most expendable." Dumbledore stated.

"Wait. If the potion must be 'drunk' to be disabled. Why don't we have something else do it?"

"Would you inflict the unknowns of a potion Voldemort created on another? I'm confident it won't kill me, just prevent me from taking the Horcrux somehow."

"Prevent you?" Harry wondered at Dumbledore's vague words.

"It may make me forget, or paralyze me."

"Then let's get something that's already dead. One of the Inferi can drink the potion without any further harm to itself or more importantly to us."

"I do not believe getting one to drink will be an easy task."

"They're stationary targets, I can get one easily." Archer traced a chain with a large spike on the end. His choice or armaments must've been influenced by being around so many teenagers. It naturally reminded him of his own highschool, and the events that surrounded it. Like Rule Breaker, this chain came from that time. It was the weapon of Medusa in the 5th Holy Grail War. While it had no name, and wasn't a Noble Phantasm, Rider's weapon was well-suited for long-range restraint. Archer leaped up, and chose a corpse floating face down with it's hands crossed behind it's back. It was nicely positioned at twenty meters away, it's removal wouldn't provoke the Inferni close to it to come to the island. Archer's aim was perfect. With a swing of his arm, the spike was driven through both of the dark creature's arms and wedged itself in its spine. A powerful jerk tore the Inferinus in an upwards arc from the lake and sent it sailing towards the smooth rock on which the three of them stood. Pale bodies rose out of the water after it, but finding nothing to grasp onto, the remaining corpses quickly re-submerged.

The captured Inferinus landed with a meaty splat. Archer wasted no time in securing it's legs with the chain, and also binding it's arms further. When it began to moan, the Servant used one hand to force it's jaw shut. Dumbledore had raised his hand in protest of Archer's actions. Seeing the immobilized creature before him, made the ancient wizard reconsider. With a wave of his wand, a crystal goblet appeared in his other hand. The potion that was scooped up in it didn't vanish. Archer forced the mouth of his captive open, and Dumbledore poured the sickly green drink down the Inferinus' throat.

The effect was immediate. Whatever the potion was, it was powerful enough to subdue the reanimated corpse. Another cup followed, then another. All of the inhumane strength left the Inferinus, but Archer held him up. When the last of the potion was scooped up, a golden locket appeared in the basin. Dumbledore poured the last cup into the corpse's mouth, then turned his attention to the revealed Horcrux.

Archer lowered the Inferinus, but kept it wrapped in the chain. The Servant turned his senses to the locket that the three of them had braved the cave to find. "That isn't a Horcrux."

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Harry couldn't understand what his Servant had just said. "That isn't a Horcurx? It has to be, why would Voldemort go through all this effort for something else?"

Dumbledore peered into the basin and pulled out the locket. "I detect no inherent magic in the locket." He opened it, and pulled out a piece of paper. "Oh my, it appears we are a bit late." He handed the note to Archer. "A mister R.A.B. already stole the locket, and if the note is to be believed, intends to destroy it."

"Could this be a double-bluff? Perhaps the locket is still within the cave somewhere." Harry couldn't believe they'd come to this horrible place for nothing.

"Then why the note? No, I think it is safe to assume this cavern did indeed hold a piece of Voldemort's soul in the past. Let us adjourn to my office. The answers we seek may be there."

Harry was silent on the way out of the cave. The bright sunlight at the entrance jarred him from his thoughts. Was there someone else fighting Voldemort this whole time? Why did the note say that R.A.B. expected to be dead? It didn't make any sense. What if the locket Horcrux was already destroyed? Why did his dream lead them to the cave if there wasn't a Horcrux hidden inside. By the time they'd reconvened in Dumbledore's office, Harry was no closer to an answer.

Dumbledore took out his pensieve and placed a memory from a small vial into it. "I have a memory from the House Elf of Hepzibah Smith, from when she showed the locket and cup to a young Tom Riddle. Let us start there, and try and trace the path the locket must have taken."

"I'll leave that to you two." Archer said. "I'd prefer not to have the three of us vulnerable to a surprise attack, even here."

"Very well. Harry, shall we?"

"Yes sir."

The memory was of an incredibly fat woman and a young man that Harry recognized from his 2nd year. The older Tom Riddle looked almost exactly like his younger self. It wasn't until Hepzibah showed Tom the Locket of Salazar Slytherin and the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff that Dumbledore paused the memory. In his hand he held the locket from the cave, and compared it to the locket in the memory.

"It doesn't have the 'S' that the one in the memory does."

"Yes Harry, and it's shape is different too."

"Wait, I've seen that locket before!" Harry recalled the locket that Mundungus had tried to sell in Diagon Alley. The same locket that Kreacher was very possessive of. "It was in Grimmauld Place!"

"Really? Then perhaps the R.A.B. is Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius's brother."

"Wasn't he a Deatheater?"

"Yes, but he disappeared in the war. I dare warrant that he and Voldemort had a falling out."

"Do you think Kreacher knows about the locket?"

"There is an easy way to find out. Let's exit the memory and ask him."

Harry pulled his head out of the pensieve, and looked around. Archer was standing by the door. The Servant had become immaterial while Harry had been seeing the memory.

"We think we found it. Kreacher!"

With a soft pop the surly House Elf appeared. "What does the filthy Master want?"

"Kreacher, what do you know about this locket?" Harry motioned to the locket held in Dumbledore's hand.

"Master's locket! How did you get your dirty hands on Master's locket?"

"Tell us what you know about it Kreacher."

The elf grimaced, as if he was trying to fight the order to talk, but words came out of his mouth despite his efforts. "That was Master Regulus's locket. He always had it. When the Dark Lord took Kreacher to the cave, Regulus called him back. Kreacher took Master to the cave, and Master left the locket there."

"What about the locket in the cave before that? What happened with that locket?"

Kreacher was in tears now, but continued to talk. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to leave him! Kreacher was to take the locket from the poison water and destroy it. Kreacher couldn't! Kreacher tried for years and years, but Kreacher couldn't even open the locket! Kreacher is a bad elf! A horrible, bad, incompetent elf that can't even fulfill his Master's last request!"

Harry's heart softened. He'd always hated Kreacher for the way he treated everyone around him. The elf's sorrow was real though. An idea came to Harry. "Kreacher, could you destroy it if I opened it?"

Kreacher looked up. The hope in his eyes made his expression completely foreign. "Yes! Kreacher could do it if the locket would open!"

"Go and bring the locket here." Kreacher disappeared with a pop. "Archer, can I have Rule Breaker for a moment?"

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk. "That won't be necessary. I still have this copy." The Headmaster handed the unmistakable dagger to Harry.

Just then Kreacher reappeared with Salazar Slytherin's locket in his small hands. "I have it."

"Good, now place it on the ground." After Kreacher did, Harry knelt down and stabbed the locket with Rule Breaker. There was a flash of light where the dagger connected. "Try opening and destroying it now."

Kreacher hesitatingly reached out to the locket. It opened easily in his hands. The look on the elf's face turned from hope, to joy, to fury. He tossed the locket down and snapped his fingers. Voldemort's Horcrux shattered into dust. Harry felt a small pain in his scar that coincided with the locket's destruction.

'It's gone.' Archer telepathically communicated. 'The human soul that was in the locket is no more.'

"Professor, may I?" Harry pointed to Regulus's locket that was still in Dumbledore's hand.

"Of course Harry, I think it's a fine idea and very fitting."

Harry took the locket, and handed it to Kreacher. "Here, to replace that locket so you have a memento from your Master."

Tears swelled up in the House Elf's eyes. "Kreacher is so happy! Dobby was right about Harry Potter. Harry Potter is a great wizard! Kreacher is honored to be his elf!" Large tears rolled down Kreacher's cheeks. Harry was glad everything had worked out so well. The Horcrux was gone, and it was nice seeing Kreacher so happy. Harry found it hard to think of the elf ever having a nice personality, but spending more than a decade futilely trying to accomplish his beloved Master's final wish... Harry could see that driving even a enthusiastic elf like Dobby to psychosis.

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It had been a long time since Harry had a dream about Archer's past. Calling upon Dhu al-Fiqar only showed him a bizarre alien landscape. As far as the eye could see, swords of every possible size and type were stuck in the desolate wasteland that surrounded him. The sun had set, but it's light still shown above the horizon. In the air hung gigantic black gears. Some were relatively small, others must have been miles wide, and their length stretched far across the sky until Harry could no longer make them out. Harry wandered about, but the landscape was unchanging. The swords pulled free of the parched earth with little resistance, but that was it. No sign of Horcruxes or Voldemort existed in this dreamscape. After several nights spent wandering directionless and bored in this endless dream, Harry stopped using the Blade of Dreams at night. That was when his dreams of Archer started again. It had been several months, and the Sword of Dreams' power must have started to ebb. This let the mental link he and Archer shared shaped his nighttime visions once more.

The teenage Shirou Emiya was walking down the street in the dead of night. His eyes were glazed. The Imperiused Master made his way to an impressive looking temple on top of a hill. There he encountered a cloaked woman. Harry didn't recognize her from any of his previous dreams. Shirou came out of his trance, and tried to resist her. As she reached out to touch his hand upon which rested his command seals, the pair was barraged by glowing blue arrows. Archer landed between Shirou and the stranger. From their conversation, Harry picked out the English words 'Caster' and 'Assassin'. He could only assume the witch was 'Caster'. The conversation they were holding ended when Archer summoned a pair of familiar black and white swords and cut through the woman. Her form split apart and dissolved... some kind of illusion? The real Caster appeared floating in the air above them. As she was flying, multiple orbs of energy appeared in front of her before launching themselves towards the two people below her. Archer picked up Shirou and began to weave around the explosions that tore up the ground of the courtyard.

Were those Confringos? Expulsos? Reductos? Like Archer, she used magic without words or wands, so there was no incantation or wand movement to recognize. Harry watched in awe. It wasn't the unearthly aura of Berserker, rather he was stunned by the unparalleled skill that the witch possessed. To fire off so many powerful spells in such a rapid succession didn't seem possible. Silent magic was MUCH quicker than saying the incantation, but still - the sheer number of curses she launched in just one second was ridiculous. Oh, and there was also the fact she was flying without a broom. Her cloak was unfurled to her sides, so Harry suspected Caster must have enchanted it to keep her aloft somehow.

Suddenly Archer threw Shirou aside. Harry curiosity as to why was quickly sated. A magic circle appeared under Archer's feet, and the red-clad Servant's body froze. It wasn't a Formalcraft circle. Harry recognized neither its shape nor its symbols. It was more...elegant that the few circles Harry had seen before. Archer yelled something at Caster, and then Harry noticed he was no longer holding his twin swords. What had happened to them? Had he let them vanish? Thrown them in the confusion of the attack? The answer came when the two swords spun through the air behind Caster and tore through her cloak. Archer's bow appeared in his hand and he notched a sword that looked more like a giant screw. The sword transformed into a golden arrow that Archer let fly at Caster with a shout of "Caladbolg!" The radiant blast collided with a shield in front of Caster for a brief moment before shattering it and engulfing the witch with it's golden light.

The ruined courtyard that had been their battlefield was silent for several seconds. Caster materialized in front of the pair. The fight didn't continue, instead the two Servants exchanged a few words before Caster spun around and apparated away. Harry didn't hear the tell-tale pop that usually accompanied wizards teleporting. Shirou and Archer exchanged some angry words, and the teenager moved towards the temple. Then Archer slashed him in the back. Harry was dumbfounded. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but from his previous dreams - Rin and Shirou were schoolmates. The two were obviously working together, and Archer had just literally stabbed the other Master in the back. Why? Had Rin forced him to do it? Was its Archer's animosity for the redhead?

Strangely, Shirou survived. Archer pressed the assault, but Shirou managed to make it to the temple's gate where he fell down the steps from another of Archer's slashes. Shirou's blue-clad Servant was there to catch him. The young blonde woman was engaged with a tall man in traditional Japanese clothes and a ponytail. He held an absurdly long sword that Harry instantly recognized. Was that Sasaki? The legendary swordsman Archer had talked about? Saber picked up her unconscious Master and took off. Archer and Sasaki began to fight. Harry couldn't even tell who was winning or what was going on. The two moved too quickly to keep track of. Eventually the pair separated and Archer broke away, and leapt into the night.

Harry awoke with his heart thumping in his chest. What had he just seen? Archer had tried to kill an ally in cold blood? How? Why? He didn't seem anything like the sarcastic teacher he'd come to know. Why did he hate Shirou so much? Why save him just to kill him? For that matter, it would have been simple to kill him in that initial barrage of arrows. Harry wished he knew what was being said, then some of this might make sense. It didn't look like just a simple falling out. Shirou hadn't expected the attack. Did the boy live? There was so much blood. Wait. Harry had seen those swords of Archer in his dreams before. There was no way that the Servant's attack wouldn't have been lethal. He must have been holding back. Then why attack at all? Or was Shirou tough enough to take a blow of that magnitude?

Harry didn't know what to think, but one thought echoed in his brain. If Archer betrayed an ally before...would he do it again?

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Voldemort chanted the words of a spell as he bled the muggle woman's blood. Weakening the latest sacrifice before he killed her was an essential part of the ritual. Creating a curse that was strong enough to corrupt something as powerful as Hogwarts was a long and drawn-out affair. She had to have her strength ebb before it failed her completely. The manner of her death would in turn resonate with jinx he was crafting. For more than a month, Voldemort had sought to curse his new antagonist. The blond-haired female was the second sacrifice he'd made. The first had been on the last full moon, but hadn't been enough. There were no reports of lapses in the London Vigilante's protection of Diagon Alley, or in the teacher's health. Voldemort had sought to strengthen the effect every day, but there was only so much he could do on other nights.

"Please..." The moonlight illuminated her frail form as she begged for her life. Good. Her regret, her sadness, her hopelessness would all aid in the ritual. The hard part was prolonging her suffering. She'd been fed blood-creating potions, and dosed with weak pepper-uppers when her consciousness was about to fade.

"Bellatrix!"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"It is almost time, bring the stone."

"Right away Lord Voldemort!"

One of the stones from Hogwarts' foundation was critical for the curse to succeed. He'd procured it when he'd gone to the castle under the guise of seeking a teaching job. Bellatrix had hidden it for him safely ever since. It wasn't the most important task he'd given her, but now it was proving vital to his plans. Every single piece of Hogwarts was magical, and obtaining this segment had been no small task. It's wards were the same as those of the castle proper. One tiny part that was still connected. The stone couldn't grant them access or interfere with the protections granted, but it's link could be exploited. Cursing the stone cursed Hogwarts. Given enough time, he could completely subvert the castle's protections. Unfortunately such a task would probably take close to a thousand years. In the short-term, all he could manage was cursing a job. He couldn't even effect the Headmaster position, it was too central to the nature of the school.

The muggle shuddered, and her final breath was captured within the fragment of the castle. The effects of the jinx would be amplified again. Soon Archer would die.


	10. Chapter 10

In the end, Harry told Ron and Hermione about the dream of Archer's past.

"Blimey! I told ya didn't I?" Ron's mouth was full of sunny-side up eggs. "Trusting him was a mistake."

"Oh, you seemed quite excited about that sword he gave you. Or do you want to stop practicing?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's not to say..." Ron took a large gulp of pumpkin juice. "He does have some good points, but do we really want him to have our backs?"

"Harry," Hermione turned to her other friend. "You said you don't know what they said right? Shirou might've provoked him, or said something damning. Archer never trusted him right?"

"Well, I got the feeling that Archer never liked him much. Even when they first met."

"And isn't it strange that Archer didn't kill him?"

"Yeah, that was odd. I mean, he took him by surprise, and had him all alone until he knocked him down the stairs. It was like he was holding back."

"See?" Hermione leaned back with a triumphant look on her face. "We don't know why the two came to blows, but even then Archer didn't kill him! Perhaps he wanted Shirou wounded and out of the fight?"

"What? Slash his back so he doesn't die? Sounds suspicious to me." Ron interjected.

"Well, I think you should ask him Harry. It's better not to let misconceptions get in the way of a friendship." Hermione gave a pointed look at Ron.

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Harry did think about it for the rest of the day. In the end, he decided to wait and see more of the dream before saying anything he couldn't take back.

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After Archer got away from Sasaki, he raced along the rooftops in his etherial state. The knight of arrows paused outside of the Emiya residence, and Harry suddenly knew what was going on inside. It was a strange feeling in the dream, like when Archer had been standing on a rooftop and suddenly Harry just 'knew' what was going on down below. Caster had appeared inside the estate, and was holding an unconscious woman. She released her hostage, and Shirou rushed to catch the falling body. Caster then drew a wicked dagger that Harry knew of all too well. Rule Breaker. That meant Caster was Medea. That didn't make sense. Medea wasn't 'Heroic'. At best she was a tragic character, and at worst a traitorous murderer.

Harry actually hadn't known who she was at all, but after mentioning her name while talking about Rule Breaker, Hermione had gone into detail about her role in myth and legend. Medea had been the daughter of a king when Jason and the Argonauts had come to their land. It was when the Goddess Aphrodite sensed Jason needed help, that Medea's life changed. Her curse made Medea fall blindly in love with the foreigner she'd never seen before. With her help, Jason was successful in obtaining the Golden Fleece, but that wasn't the end of the story. King Aeetes was furious and took off after Jason. Through Medea, Aphrodite aided Jason yet again. Medea killed her own brother, Apsyrtus. She then chopped his body into pieces and scattered them on the sea. King Aeetes stopped his pursuit to reclaim the body of his beloved son. With Medea's help, Jason managed to complete his voyage and return home. There he was crowned king, but Medea had a far worse reception. She was denounced as a witch and a traitor to her family and country. She and Jason fled to the country Corinth. Jason met the princess of the land, and chose her over Medea. Once again, the witch had to flee a country. She returned at Jason's wedding, and killed everyone but her former love.

As Shirou lunged forward, so did Caster. Her attack was blocked by Saber's body, but then Rule Breaker glowed. Like her body was being puppeted, Saber turned against her allies. Her attacks were jerky and uncoordinated, and allowed for Rin and Shirou to escape with the unconscious woman. A smirk came to Archer's face. Harry wasn't sure what the Servant found amusing, but he didn't think he'd like it.

Archer spent the next day guarding Rin. His Master spent her time concentrating on some kind of spellwork. The next night, Archer and Rin set off to the church where the creepy priest lived. There was something special about the church. Rin had gone there when Archer first appeared. She also took Shirou there with Saber. The significance was lost on Harry, but the state of the inside wasn't. The interior of the church was splattered with blood. Rin and Archer moved past the pews and into an underground tunnel. At the end, they found Caster. She was performing some ritual on Saber. Shirou's Servant was missing some clothing, was magically bound, and was in intense pain. Rin and Caster talked for a bit before Archer stepped forward. He calmly approached Caster, and let her stab him with Rule Breaker!

Rin looked as shocked as Harry felt. Archer had betrayed them? If he understood Rule Breaker's ability, it would've negated the link between him and Rin. That must have been what Caster did to Saber! That was why she was moving so sloppily, she was being controlled! In contrast, Archer surrendered to Medea's dagger willingly! Why?! Rin looked panicked. Was Archer going to attack her like he did Shirou? This was so wrong! Harry was surprised when a tired looking Shirou jumped down from the stairway and landed in front of Rin. He was looking good for someone who'd been on death's door the previous night. Whoever healed him could teach a thing or two to Ms. Pomfrey.

Caster launched a ball of light at the former Masters, but Shirou blocked it with a wooden sword. The impact caused the weapon to shatter. The redhead then had Archer's white and black swords appear in his hands. Was this when Archer acquired them, like he did Rule Breaker? No, they were Archer's blades first. Shirou could perform the same magic? Archer said his techniques were unique and went beyond simple conjuring. Were Shirou's just physically similar? Medea launched three more glowing balls of destruction. The monochromatic blades swept out and intercepted them all. The third blast shattered the white sword, but another copy appeared in Shirou's hand.

Then Archer raised his arm between the combatants. He said something, and the swords vanished from Shirou's hands as he and Rin walked away. So Archer spared them? Harry just couldn't understand what was going on. Things were supposed to be simpler than this. Why did Archer repeatedly betray then spare them? Harry could only guess at his motivations. Was the Heroic Spirit reluctant to kill? How could he betray Rin like that? The two of them got along so well, just like Archer and...him. If Archer betrayed Rin to join up with a powerful Dark witch, would he do the same and join up with Voldemort? Harry didn't want to believe it. The Servant had said these dreams were his past. He had also given Harry Dhu al-Fiqar to block them! Was that the main reason, or was it help find the Horcruxes?

Harry woke up. It was still dark out. He couldn't fall back asleep. His mind kept going around in circles. It wouldn't be the first time the Defense Professor betrayed him and tried to kill him. It was like Ron said, every teacher that had held that post had tried to kill him (though Lupin's was an accident). Harry would talk to Dumbledore. He had to know. What if Archer hadn't destroyed the cup? They only had his word for it. Harry had felt something, but the sensation could've meant anything. Could Archer really be a double-agent?

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Dumbledore was seated at his desk. With the locket's destruction, there were only two Horcruxes remaining. Nagini would be the simplest or next to impossible. As long as Tom didn't realize his secret had been discovered, he would continue to treat the fragment of his soul in the snake with a surprising amount of nonchalance. If Voldemort found out, would he secure the snake close to him or hide it? Since Nagini was alive, he couldn't very well leave it alone without food or water. Whatever the effect of being a Horcrux was, Dumbledore doubted it included immortality.

What about Harry Potter? The old wizard didn't realize how much he had been hoping Archer's techniques would work. The connection between Harry and Voldemort probably would ensure the boy's survival. For that to work, the two would have to be tethered with magic. A killing curse would likely kill the fragment of a soul in Harry, and let his spirit remain in this world. Thankfully it was the Dark Lord's favorite spell. Tom getting creative and using a blasting or cutting hex wouldn't leave much of a body for Harry to come back to.

Then there were the Deathly Hallows. Dumbledore was in possession of two of them, and Harry had the third. The resurrection stone didn't work for him. Even after his foolishness had shown him he was unworthy and had nearly cost him his life, Dumbledore had attempted to see his sister. Of course, by then he'd already had cracked the stone with the Sword of Gryffindor. The ancient weapon or the basilisk venom inside it was too much for the Horcrux, so it might have been the end to the stone as well. Could Harry use it where he himself had failed? The boy was brave. He'd faced death many times. Would it be enough for the stone's allegiance?

There was the possibility that Harry already was the owner of the stone. The Deathly Hallows had belonged to the Peverell brothers. They created the artifacts themselves, acquired them from Death, or had them passed down from other great wizards. The Cloak of Invisibility that Harry bore once belonged to Ignotus Peverell, the youngest brother. It may be that the Peverell house had died out. It's name was no longer held by any living wizard, and it's descendants only existing in other Houses through marriage. Dumbledore didn't think that was the case. It was more likely they were forced to change their names. That time in history was full of strife, and it wouldn't be the only example of an Ancient and Noble House going into hiding. The Peverell brothers lived in the 13th century. They were the last recorded Peverells on record. The Potters came into existence in the 14th century. Harry was a direct descendant along the male line. Since Ignotus's brothers were killed, Harry could be the heir to all of their possessions. Dumbledore even had sketchy proof that the Peverells themselves were a name taken by royalty in the 7th century to avoid persecution, so there was some precedence there as well.

Even if his theory was true, the Elder Wand was another matter. It was unsentimental, and would give it's loyalty to the 'strongest' with no hesitation. Dumbledore didn't think that leaving the wand to Harry in his will would be enough. The Elder Wand would likely refuse to grant it's ownership in any way that didn't involve combat. He would have to speak with Ollivander. If anyone was more versed on wandlore than him, it was the old shop owner. He had time though. More time then he thought he'd have. Manipulating Harry into being the Master of Death would be difficult, and at times cruel, but it was a plan that didn't involve him dying first. Archer was right, that really was the minimum requirement for a good idea.

A small whistle of steam emanated from the contraption that was linked to the gargoyle in front of his stairs. Someone had said the password, and gained access. Who could it be at this time? Archer tended to head to London every night following dinner. Severus had given him his potion only 3 days ago, and the next dose wasn't due until the end of the week. Was there something going on? Some emergency? Dumbledore called for his guest to enter at the knock on the door. His visitor was a tired-looking Harry Potter.

"Harry, my boy. What are you doing out so late?"

"I know it's after curfew Professor, but I needed to talk to you. I would've come during the day, but I wanted to make sure Archer wasn't around."

"Why is that?"

"You know how I've been having dreams?"

"Yes, they've been most helpful."

"Well, before Archer gave me the Blade of Dreams, they were all about his past. I dreamt about what Archer did before he came here."

Dumbledore nodded. The Counter Guardian had told him about the mental link, and about his own actions as a spirit of the Earth. They would be disconcerting things to see. "I'm aware of their nature. I thought a way to block them had been found."

"That's the thing. Dhu al-Fiqar had been showing me the same dream for days. It didn't make any sense, so I stopped using it."

"Ah, and the dreams have returned?" Dumbledore recalled that Harry had looked rather worn-down right before Archer had mentioned using a magical sword to interfere with their link.

"Yes, but it's not just that. I've seen what Archer has done. Who he's betrayed. I'm, I'm not sure we can trust him."

"Archer's nature is foreign to us, but I trust him."

"But sir!"

"He's told me of some of his less... honorable actions. They were in the past. He has been very earnest in the assistance he's provided us. I daresay we'd be much worse off if it wasn't for him."

"Well..."

"Are the dreams a problem? I can have Poppy give you a dreamless sleep potion tonight, provided you talk with Professor Archer tomorrow. His expertise on this matter is safer than taking potions."

"No. The dreams have become more... dream-like, I guess? They're just incoherent pictures and sounds, I can't remember them in every detail like I could before."

"Your doubts in Archer have possibly weakened your mental link." That would be bad if it allowed the Voldemort access to Harry's thoughts again. "I would be best if you and your Servant were on good terms again."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Is there anything else Harry?"

"I guess not."

"Very well, have a good night."

"You too sir."

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Archer's hands shook, and his normally super-human vision blurred a little. For the last two weeks his trips to London had left him feeling drained and weakened. It was getting so bad that once an hour he'd turn etherial while changing his position. He recognized the symptoms, he wasn't getting enough prana from his Master. Rather, the prana that Hogwarts had been supplying him to supplement Harry's had diminished. The strain of maintaining his physical body for hours every night away from both of his powers sources was starting to get to him. His Independent Action trait should have been allowing him to move around without regard to his distance from his Master. Perhaps the curse was lessening the effect of the trait? Staying etherial would lessen the burden, but his ability to reinforce his eyesight wouldn't be available. It was a problem. If he went too long without letting his body rest, there was a chance he'd get sloppy and fail to save someone. Alternately, what if an attack came while he was in spirit form and didn't see it in time?

The inconstant thing was that returning to Hogwarts revitalized him far too quickly. He also didn't feel any symptoms around Harry. He hadn't noticed it before, but the prana from the castle now felt similar to that which he'd received from the Holy Grail in the 5th war. The Holy Grail that had been corrupted by All the World's Evils. Was Hogwarts being tainted underneath him? Archer wasn't a skilled enough magus to say for certain either way, but the oily feeling of the prana it gave him was unmistakable. His only conclusion was that Voldemort was making his move, but Harry's presence was a direct counter. It didn't matter, he'd last long enough to divert the course of the war. Anything else was inconsequential.

Three kilometers to the south-east a woman was being held at knife-point. It wasn't a magus, and likely had nothing to do with Death Eaters. "Trace on." Archer's bow materialized, and he traced a masterwork sword that didn't have any powers besides being well-crafted. It turned into a peerless arrow, and he let it fly. He struck true. The arrow had arced up and down, skewering the man's arm at the shoulder. He probably wouldn't lose it, but any fine control of that particular appendage would elude him for the rest of his life. Archer let his bow dissipate, and focused his senses on the rest of the city. Just 3 more hours until morning.

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The next night, Dumbledore was contemplating the possible consequences of using Rule Breaker again, while he sucked on a lemon drop. He'd taken the dagger out to think about other possible uses of it's power. It could break the Imperius Curse. That could free some of Voldemort's followers, but short of stabbing everyone there wasn't an easy way to identify who wasn't acting of their own accord. The down-side of the magical dagger made casual use problematic. Most wizards and witches had some magic tied to them that would be removed. Magical contracts, links to wards, even employment was enacted with spells. A person struck by Rule Break would be dead for all magical intents and purposes.

There was no real reason to use it on an object. Horcruxes took extraordinary effort to get rid off, but the vast majority of charmed items were a simple matter to deal with. Dumbledore had done some testing, and the dagger could render pure magic inert. It didn't have to target a person or thing. Rule Breaker was the most dangerous item on the planet in that regard. Ancient wards that could repel armies and stand up nearly any wizard could be dispelled with no effort. Even more impressive was that the dagger removed them in such a way that their absence wasn't missed. Of the wards Dumbledore created to test Rule Breaker, none made so much as a tingle when dispelled. Dumbledore hadn't even noticed the wards that he was consciously focused on being destroyed. It wasn't until he reached out again to check that he could tell they were gone. All magic left traces, but Rule Breaker didn't. Wards were erased so completely that he couldn't even tell they were once there.

Rule Breaker would be the key to reaching Voldemort inside of Malfoy Manor. The wards of the Ancient House were impressive, so they'd probably be able to take all the inhabitants by surprise. No one could predict the ease at which Rule Breaker would grant them access. In that sense, two of the three remaining pieces of Tom Riddle's soul were accounted for. Even a wizard of Voldemort's power had to sleep. By removing his defensive wards and replacing them with ones that would restrict him, they could take the Dark Lord by surprise. Nagini would be with him, and handled at the same time. The problem once again boiled down to Harry Potter.

A small whistle of steam interrupted Dumbledore's musing. A visitor tonight as well? The Headmaster was wondering if perhaps Harry wanted to speak with him again when the door to his room exploded inward. Darkness bellowed in like a fog from the doorway. Dumbledore had long ago learned to see the world by more than what his eyes could show him. He was able to sense the magical presence of Draco Malfoy entering the room.

"Don't move!" The young boy shouted. "I have my wand pointed at you. If you so much as twitch, I'll kill you!"

Dumbledore noted the magical signatures that his assailant was holding. "A hand of glory. So you can see in this darkness Draco? May I assume you used it's power to get past my gargoyle?" The door in the hallway was heavily warded. It wouldn't be blown apart like the door at the top of the stairs just was.

"No. I just ran through all the sweets I knew. Magical and Muggle."

"Ah, I'm afraid I've become predictable."

"It's no use acting calm! You're about to die!"

"So are you going to kill me Draco? Pardon my doubts, but you are not a cold-hearted murderer."

"Shows what you know. I've been planning on killing you all year long. That explosion in the Great Hall? My doing."

"Really? That was quite impressive. A senseless waste of furniture, but an impressive feat. How did you do it? Severus told me he detected no potion residue, and I must admit I doubt a child could produce an explosion of that size on their own."

"I stole a wand and overloaded it." A smile crept into Draco's voice. "Professor Archer taught us how to do it. No one else is as good as I am though. I'd bet none of them even thought of reinforcing a wand."

"Ah, that would explain it. Professor Archer's techniques can be quite dangerous. I take it the result was rather unexpected?"

"It was larger than I thought it would be, and it went off almost immediately. That's why I didn't try it again."

Dumbledore still had Rule Breaker in his hand. With a small flick of his wrist he cut the darkness with it's blade. Intent seemed important to the dagger's usage. It would ignore ambient magic that it's wielder didn't plan on nullifying. The room resumed it's usual brightness. "Ah, much better." Draco was white-faced, and his hand was trembling. Dumbledore had his suspicions as to whether the boy could cast any spell with success at the moment.

"What did you do? What's that dagger?"

"This dagger removes magic. I thought I should be able to look my killer in the eye."

"It won't change anything."

"I agree, since you wouldn't kill me regardless. You're not a murderer Draco. I admit, this confrontation surprises me, but I knew from the beginning of the year what your mission was."

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"While you were trying at your task your family was safe. It was also your willingness to carry out Voldemort's orders that kept you alive as well."

Draco had flinched at the Dark Lord's name. "So you just let me try and kill you?"

"I couldn't let you know that I knew. You're Occulmancy is no match for Voldemort. If he learned you weren't proceeding as ordered, your mother's life would be forfeit."

"Exactly! So I have to."

"We've been talking for several minutes now. If you were earnest in your desire, then my death would've come mere seconds after you breached my office. Let me help you."

"Help me?" Draco said incredulously. "You're the one that needs help."

"I won't debate the truth of that, but it doesn't negate my statement." To Dumbledore's eyes, Draco was an open book. You didn't need Legilimency to read people, though it helped. Guile was a trained skill, and a child practicing it was far different than an adult. Most people were children in Dumbledore's eyes. Draco was looking for a reason, any reason to not kill him. "You need help just as much as I. We can hide you and your mother. I'll make it so Voldemort cannot reach you."

"That's impossible! If Snape was the ally you thought he was, you'd know that the Dark Mark cannot be gotten rid of. It will allow the Dark Lord to find us wherever we go."

Dumbledore held up the dagger. "I can remove it."

"Oh? With you're little knife? Am I just supposed to let you stab me? What kind of fool do you think I am? The blade is poisoned or charmed somehow."

"I swear, this weapon only effects magic."

"Oh yeah? If you're so keen on protecting me, why don't you use it on yourself first?"

"Draco..."

"No! I won't fall for such a simple ploy!" The Heir to the Malfoys took a threatening step forward. Dumbledore could sense his resolve growing. The anger at attempted trickery might just cause him to do something rash and foolish.

"Very well." It was unfortunate, but Dumbledore saw no other choice. Draco was growing more and more frantic. He might cast a spell they'd both regret. The Headmaster held Rule Breaker, and drove it into his blackened hand. The change was almost instantaneous. His hand grew pale, emanating outward from where the Noble Phantasm pierced his skin. The curse, and it's effects were negated. Dumbledore tried to sense Hogwarts, but found he couldn't. He held up his right hand that hadn't been able to properly move for the better part of a year. It looked as healthy as his good hand. "Does that satisfy you Draco?"

"What? What did it do to your hand?"

"Removed a curse that was proving to be quite persistent."

"Why didn't you remove it before?"

"That is a long story. Do you still think the dagger is a cunning trap?"

"Well, no."

"It can remove your mark. Voldemort will think you died trying to kill me. I daresay, he probably expects that result."

"If everyone thinks you killed me, it'll be trouble for you."

"I think I shall have to fake my own death too. We will disappear, and no magic that I know of will be able to find us. The only logical conclusion is that we both perished."

"Really?"

"Oh I'm certain the Quibbler will have an interesting article or two, but I am not a wizard of any small measure. We will be quite safe."

"And my family?"

"We shall spirit away your mother tonight. You're father will be safe in Azkaban for the time being."

"O..Ok." Draco nodded, and lowered his wand.

Dumbledore stood and walked to where the young man was standing amidst the splinters of his former office door. Draco pulled back his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. A quick stab from Rule Breaker and the mark vanished from the boy's arm as if it had never been there. "There it is done."

"I..I...I didn't think it was possible." Draco looked up to the wizened wizard. His eyes were sparkling with tears that he refused to cry. "There's...there's something you should know."

"Oh?"

"I fixed a vanishing cabinet, and had it bring some Death Eaters through. It was my plan to have them back me up, but only two came."

"Two?"

"Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange. They said I was to make my attempt tonight. Then they took some of the polyjuice potion I had, and demanded I give them the hairs of a Gryffindor student."

"Did you?"

"Yes. I had the hairs that I'd kept from earlier. From when I stole the wand. I also told them the password for the Gryffindor common room. I don't know what they're planning, but they know how to get back to the hidden room with the cabinet."

"How long ago was this?"

"About half an hour. It took me longer than I thought to guess the password."

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2 weeks ago...

"Crucio!"

Rudolphus Lestrange screamed and writhed on the ground. Despite his pleas, Voldemort knew what he thought. He had doubts. Doubts about a Dark Lord that didn't move on someone showing such open defiance. The fool. Voldemort feared nothing! He wasn't about to fight an enemy on their terms, that'd be imbecilic. Archer had claimed London. Every Death Eater that went to the city at night and attempted ANYTHING was killed instantly. No one knew just what kind of magic the foreign mage was using, but to ward such a large area, and to keep the magic hidden... Only a rank amateur would walk into that. He'd even slain Dementors! For all of the dark secrets the last heir of Slytherin had learned, actually killing a Dementor was beyond his knowledge. Control yes, but to slay one of the darkest creatures in the world? It should have been impossible.

Bellatrix didn't have a doubt in her mind. She and Rudolphus were skilled Occlumens, but their minds were still open books to him. The way the populace saw him was reflected even in dear Bella's thoughts. Between the security at the Ministry, the increased Auror presence during the day, and Archer's accursed presence at night... the central hub of power in wizarding Britain was cut off from him! The Ministry of Magic and Diagon Alley were off-limits. The Death Eater's countryside raids were increasingly pointless. Only the most secure of targets remained. Anyone who doubted the strength of their wards had fled to the 'safety' of 'the London Vigilante'. The sacrificial tests of Archer's continued effectiveness were becoming harder and harder to obtain. The jinx had been tripled in it's potency! He should be dead by now! He should've died the day after the second sacrifice!

Snape's reports on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor were invaluable. The red-clad wizard had shown up out of nowhere the night he dared interfere with the killing of Amelia Bones. Supposedly, that night he'd first appeared at the Potter residence, and then set off to save the competent replacement of Minister Fudge. Details after that were sketchy except for his constant presence in London at night. The number of Death Eaters killed was staggering. Their organization was small even with their 'recruits'. Every loss was felt more deeply on their side. There wasn't even an option to recoup their losses by raiding Azkaban. The security there was light, since the Aurors were stationed primarily in London and Hogsmeade, but there was no point. The Dementors were already on his side, and Archer killed all his victims.

What was strange was his continued presence at Hogwarts. Why was he staying at the school? He either was protecting something, or he needed to be near something - perhaps both. There was something Voldemort was missing. Some reason the Dark curse hadn't born fruit. An aspect of Archer's power that he had yet to show. Snape had told him how much time Harry Potter and Archer spent together. The boy could supposedly sense the teacher's presence and had dreams about him. It was funny, listening to the symptoms as they related to someone else made it so obvious. Harry Potter was Archer's Horcrux. It also meant that Potter used to be another of his own Horcruxes. The sensing of each other, the shared dreams... Now he understood the prophecy. Harry Potter wasn't a threat because of his skill. He was a threat because he was what another Dark Lord used to tether his soul to this world.

If Harry had been a Horcrux, it explained their connection. It was infuriating that he'd accidentally made seven Horcruxes. He'd dared to split his soul seven times, to invoke the power of the number. Going over that limit made him vulnerable. Had Archer subverted his Horcrux, or was the boy host to three spirits? It didn't matter. Losing a Horcrux, even an accidental one, was a severe blow, but it would leave him with seven soul shards again. Potter's death would be what simultaneously restored him to his full glory, and removed the single person that was blocking his rise to power. With Archer gone, the Ministry and Diagon Alley would be vulnerable again. A grand display when the sheep thought they were safe: and the war would be his.

Draco had actually done something useful. The boy had reported that he'd found a way inside Hogwarts. He wanted to use it to sneak Death Eaters inside to help with his task. Bah! There weren't enough left to spare for something like that, and it was Draco's task. He'd have to kill Dumbledore to save himself. Of course, if even the great Lord Voldemort couldn't kill someone, there was no chance for a 6th year student. He would still be valuable as a distraction. Have him attempt to kill the Headmaster. That would distract Dumbledore, and allow Bellatrix and Rudolphus to kidnap Harry Potter. Voldemort would finish what he started. Harry Potter would die, and take Archer with him.

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Harry's dreams were cut short when his world exploded in white-hot pain. His eyes opened, but that was as much movement as he could muster. His limbs refused to respond. His mouth failed to open. The cry of pain that his body demanded he make never came. Harry glanced around the room. There were two shadows standing over him. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he saw Colin and Dennis Creevey standing over him.

"Awwww... what's the matter?" Colin whispered. "Is poor widdle Potter all tongue tied? Don't worry. I'll make it all worst." The boy pointed his wand and whispered. "Crucio!" Harry's eyes closed, but that was all he could do for the pain coursing through him. Not being able to scream or tense his muscles made the pain far worse. What was Colin doing? How could he even cast that spell? You had to take pleasure in your target's suffering to produce a Cruciatus Curse. It was then Harry noticed Colin's wand. It was familiar, not the wand Colin used to have, but Harry would never forget the wand that killed Sirius. The wand that belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Just so you know there's no hope." To his side Dennis smiled as he held up Harry's wand. With a sharp twist of his wrists, the phoenix feather wand snapped in two. Dennis then drew a wand and said: "Wingardium Leviosa." Harry felt his body float out from under his covers and follow the pair of 'siblings'. He prayed for one of his roommates to hear his movement, but the only sound was Ron's soft snoring.

He was floated down the stairs and into the common room. There his body was turned so that he was perpendicular to the ground. His feet nearly scraped the floor as his two abductors left through the portrait.

"What are you doing?" The Fat Lady in the portrait demanded.

"We're going to see the Headmaster." 'Colin' said.

"What? You shouldn't be disturbing Dumbledore at this hour!"

"We were headed to our room, when we heard Harry thrashing around. We think he was having a nightmare. He wouldn't wake up, so we thought it'd be best to take him to see Dumbledore." Harry's body was positioned to face away from the painting. The Fat Lady couldn't see the panicked look in his eyes.

"First you stay out late, and now this... Take him to the infirmary, and then go to the Deputy Headmistress. Your House Head will know what to do."

"Yes ma'am."

The 'Creeveys' moved down the corridor with their captive in tow. Harry hoped they'd encounter Filch or a prefect patrolling the halls, but their trip to the Room of Requirement was disappointingly peaceful. He frantically thought of something to do to alert the rest of the castle, but nothing sprang to mind. Inside the room where they'd found the diadem, his body was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. 'Colin' and 'Dennis' raised their wands over their heads. Their bodies and clothing morphed, and Bellatrix Lestrange and a man Harry didn't recognize stood over him.

"Awwww... is Hawwy gonna cry?"

Harry closed his eyes and opened his circuits. He could feel a heavy presence of a foreign prana inside his body. He tried to circulate his od to wash it away, but Bellatrix's spell was making his magical power move sluggishly. It was like his pipes were gunked up, so only a little room remained for prana to circulate. There was nothing else he could think of doing. Archer was too far away to contact telepathically, and even if he could scream, no one would hear him in this room.

"C'mon, let's go." The thickset man that Dennis had transformed went to a cabinet that was standing at the foot of one of the mountains of junk.

"Yes, we must not keep our Lord waiting." A cruel smile came to Bellatrix's lips. She pointed her wand at Harry, and he could feel another layer of prana forming inside of him. His body was lifted up and into the now open piece of furniture. "Children first." Bellatrix cackled at her own quip.

The cabinet was dark and crowded. Harry couldn't tell what direction he was facing, the entire world seemed to be spinning. Suddenly he fell out of cabinet and onto the muddy ground.

"Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived." Towering above him was a pale man that looked more like a snake than a human. "I'm so glad you could come. You see, your death will be the final step of my rebirth." Lord Voldemort casually pointed his wand downwards at the prone boy.

Harry could feel the magic inside of him weakening as his od scrapped against it. His flow was improving, and little by little the spell was being washed away. It was still too strong though. He couldn't move his arms or legs. The only part of his body that was freed was his mouth, as he swallowed nervously.

"Voldemort. You won't get away with this."

"Oh, but I think I already have. Any last words?" The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed as he held his wand - ready to cast the killing curse that would win the war.

"Archer, I order you to come forth!"


End file.
